


Club Avalon

by stewardess



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, BDSM, First Time, M/M, Mutant Powers Kink, Negotiations, Power Dynamics, Romance, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1970s San Francisco mutant-owned leather club AU. Erik wants Charles to be his boy, then wants Charles to be something more. Through the miracle of hand-waving, Charles and Raven are 18, Erik 38, and everyone else slightly older than movie age. I planned a short PWP, but Charles and Erik were determined to have their epic romance no matter the setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club Avalon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrkinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/gifts).



"Erik!" Christian said. "Banshee needs you at the entrance right away!"

"Tell Riptide where I'm going," Erik told Christian, and left the dungeon, running up the stairs two at a time to Club Avalon's street-level lobby.

Men-only Saturday nights at Club Avalon had one serious drawback: no Emma. As a telepath, she was uniquely suited to handle any drama at the door. Tonight, Emma and Angel were taking a night off in the North Beach flat they shared. That left Erik in charge.

Before Erik pushed aside the leather curtain screening the club's activities, he slowed to a walk. There was no need to add tension to the scene. But it turned out to be a surge of adrenaline for nothing. The lobby did not contain what Erik expected, a horror show of Anita Bryant followers armed with signs, bullhorns, and hatred.

Except for Banshee sitting at the desk, the lobby was empty.

"What is it?" Erik asked.

"Two teenagers trying to get in," Banshee said. "A boy and a girl. I told them to wait outside."

"Are they high, underage, think we're just a disco, what?" Erik asked.

"All of the above, probably," Banshee said. "I haven't checked their IDs yet." Considering he'd asked for Erik's help, Banshee sounded oddly unconcerned.

"You told them the girl can't get in because it's men-only night?" Erik asked.

"Yeah, they know."

"I'll talk to them outside," Erik said.

Maybe the kids didn't realize Avalon was a BDSM club. Maybe they didn't realize alcohol wasn't sold on the premises. Erik didn't care. Because whatever the reason Banshee had asked Erik to intervene, one thing was certain: Erik was going to get a cigarette break out of it.

If Erik had been into teenagers, he may have felt more was at stake than a nicotine fix. But he wasn't. He just didn't find any combination of innocence and ignorance a turn-on.

Erik collected his pack, lighter, and two copies of Club Avalon's rules from the lobby desk. He lit up as soon as he was out the door, then slipped the pack and lighter into his T-shirt chest pocket.

Only one of the kids waited on the sidewalk, the boy. There was no sign of the girl.

Where the hell had she gone to? An unbroken wall of shuttered commercial buildings stretched for blocks in every direction. There was someone crossing the street, but it was only the old man who worked at the corner liquor store.

"What happened to your friend?" Erik couldn't let the girl in on men-only night, but he didn't want to simply turn her loose South of Market.

"Don't worry about her," the boy said. "She can take care of herself."

The boy's voice was not boyish.

It was low, mature, with a soft British accent, and it resonated through Erik, calling forth an answering peal.

Erik's attention was suddenly and acutely focused on the boy, who was underdressed for the typical freezing August night in San Francisco. Skintight white pants, open white vest, and silver platform shoes. No shirt. Hair was wavy, shoulder-length, and brown. Skin pale, eyes blue, lips red. Silver eye shadow.

The thin white pants made it obvious the boy wasn't wearing underwear. His open vest showed nipples hard from the cold.

"Beware the instant connection," Angel had told Erik after breaking up with her last girlfriend. Erik had nodded in agreement, but he realized he hadn't understood her, because he'd never experienced what she'd described. Until now.

The boy appeared to be having a similar crisis of lust, but, unlike Erik, he seemed thrilled about it. The boy's mouth opened, his face slack for a moment, then he smiled as if there for a single purpose, to meet Erik.

Erik wasn't convinced his voice would be steady, so he silently passed the boy the rules instead of asking for ID. The rules saved a lot of ID checking, anyway, especially the third, which demanded a five dollar annual membership fee, plus a five dollar cover charge.

Except for a compulsion to stare at the boy's mouth, Erik was close to calm again, or at least calmer, so when the boy looked up from the rules, Erik asked, "Can I see your ID?"

The boy took an ID out of a zippered pocket inside his vest and handed it to Erik.

Erik examined it. Even in the dim streetlight, the ID was obviously a fake – at least to Erik, who was an expert in forged identification. It might satisfy the average bouncer.

"Nice try," Erik said, returning the ID. "Have anything else? You only have to be eighteen to get in."

The boy gave him a New York State driver's license. Not a fake, Erik concluded. Charles Xavier, resident of Westchester County, had turned eighteen four months earlier.

Erik tried not to be happy about that. He returned the license, and watched Charles slide it back into the vest's zippered pocket. Silver eye shadow had sprinkled Charles's chest.

"So I can get in?" Charles was still smiling at Erik non-stop.

Erik nodded. "If you have ten bucks."

"Can I have a cigarette, please?" Charles asked.

Erik held up his pack and gave it a shake so Charles could pull a cigarette out.

Charles put the cigarette between his lips, and leaned toward Erik. When Erik flicked his lighter and touched it to the cigarette, Charles cupped one hand around the flame. With his other hand, Charles clasped the metal gauntlet covering Erik's arm from wrist to elbow.

Among the men Erik had been with lately, the touch – Charles's hand on his arm – was as formal an offering of sex as a church wedding was for straights. Erik's first night with Riptide had started that way, except Erik had got the light.

But this was not the start of anything, Erik told himself sternly.

For one thing, Erik had an immense amount of practice in resisting the advances of horny teenagers. A teenager trying to get into Erik's pants was an everyday occurrence at the club.

Besides, even if Charles had been older, Erik preferred his partners tall, dark, and handsome, served up with a side of strong and silent. Charles was short, pale, and pretty, and no one with a voice like the boy's was the quiet type.

And finally, Angel's warning to distrust the instant connection was good advice.

"The man at the desk said you were a DM," Charles said. "What's a DM?"

"Dungeon monitor," Erik said.

"So you're working right now?"

"I get off at ten." Why had Erik volunteered that? He never volunteered anything.

"It's almost ten," Charles said, smiling.

Erik smiled back.

Even while Erik told himself this should not be happening, an inner voice prodded: _Get him while you can._

Erik might lack interest in young first-timers, but few others did. There was no chance Charles would be left alone that night. Riptide loved newcomers. He'd gone after Erik on Erik's first night at Avalon.

Would Charles turn down Riptide? Hell, no. No one turned down Riptide.

It finally dawned on Erik that Charles could have been invited by a member, and there might be someone inside the club already waiting for the boy. Not that it mattered to Erik.

"How did you hear about Avalon?" Erik asked.

For a moment, Charles's smile disappeared, and he looked alert, even calculating. "From Emma."

Impossible, Erik thought. Emma hadn't been to New York in years. Erik was about to say so, when he remembered: the day before, Emma had sent a psychic burst to mutants, telling them Club Avalon in San Francisco was a safe haven.

It wasn't the first time Emma had sent a message out, but it was the first time Erik had attempted to boost her telepathy with his powers. Erik had braced himself for results in the coming weeks. But this fast?

And _New York?_

Charles dropped his cigarette, grinding it out with a silver platform shoe.

"Will you show me around?" Charles asked. "I know you're about to get off work, but…"

All new members got a tour. It meant nothing. Erik threw his cigarette into the street and opened the door for Charles.

Banshee was gone from the lobby desk, Christian in his place, so the eight to ten DM shift was definitely over. After Erik finished showing Charles the club, Erik could cruise in earnest for tonight's pickup.

Shift end meant Riptide was also off DM duty, and would be cruising, too. Erik would be amazed if Riptide didn't approach Charles before Erik finished giving Charles the tour.

Erik reminded himself he didn't care. He returned the rules to the desk while he waited for Charles to pay and sign the membership book. No one made it past the leather curtain until that happened, no matter how hot – or possibly-mutant – they were.

"Sign any name you want," Erik said. "Just use the same name every time you're here."

The boy wrote _Carlos_.

* * *

For camouflage purposes, Club Avalon's street level looked like an upscale disco, not a leather club.

Near the lobby, there was a social area furnished with several couches and cocktail tables. A dance floor, with a DJ booth and state-of-the-art lighting system, was at the center. This early in the evening, the dance floor was still crowded with men dancing to _Sylvester_. In the far right corner was the staircase down to the dungeon and play rooms.

What made the club different from a disco was smoke-free air, booze-free carpet, rows of lockers, and the dungeon lower level packed with St. Andrew's crosses, bondage tables, spanking benches, and cages.

Excitement on his face, Charles took a step toward the stairs.

Erik held up a hand to stop him. "You can't wear street clothes in the dungeon."

Charles looked down at his white pants and vest, which were glowing in the dance floor's ultraviolet lights. His smile said, _You consider these street clothes?_

"Fetish wear only," Erik said. "Sorry."

He wanted to take it back immediately. What if Charles left? But he couldn't budge on this, and not just for the sake of the rules. Street clothes would mark the boy as clueless fresh meat.

"What if I don't have anything to change into?" Charles said.

"Then naked is an option," Erik said.

Charles studied him. "You don't think I should go naked."

Eighteen, naked, and a first-timer at a leather club on men-only night? Erik definitely did not think it was a good idea.

"I might have something for you," Erik said. "Follow me."

His destination was a door at the rear of the club. It opened into a spartan studio apartment, a remnant of the time the club was a warehouse with an on-site manager. Emma had encouraged Erik to use the studio whenever he was in town.

Only after he and Charles were inside the studio did it occur to Erik it was the first time he had let in someone he'd just met.

"Want a drink?" Erik asked. The offer could encourage Charles, but Erik always had a drink at the end of his DM shift.

"I thought alcohol was against the rules," Charles said.

"The club can't sell it or serve it. But we're not in the club now."

"Yes, please," Charles said.

Erik suppressed a smile. He wanted to hear Charles say _Yes, please_ a few hundred more times.

"Beer?" Erik asked.

"I'll have what you're having." Charles's voice and delivery made the phrase even more suggestive than usual.

Erik gave in to smiling when he turned away to open the single cupboard by the kitchenette sink. Charles was relentless; Erik had to give Charles points for that. He took down a bottle of Scotch and two glasses, poured two double shots, and handed a glass to Charles.

Charles sipped as if he enjoyed twenty-year-old Scotch regularly. "Is this your place, Erik?" Charles waved a hand to indicate the studio.

Erik was certain he hadn't told Charles his name.

"Sometimes," Erik said. When he wasn't in Europe. Or Israel. Or South America.

Erik drank Scotch and resolutely ignored Charles's glances at the king-size bed.

"You had something for me?" Charles said.

Erik opened the door to a closet, the club's unofficial lost-and-found. He passed a black leather garment to Charles and shut the closet door.

"This is a skirt." Charles's cheeks were flushed from the Scotch.

"It's a kilt," Erik said. "Put it on." Everything else in the closet was too big for the boy. It was either the kilt, or pants that dragged on the ground.

Charles sat on a chair and removed his shoes. When he stood up, he was three inches shorter. He stripped out of his pants and vest.

Erik turned away, but not before confirming Charles wasn't wearing underwear.

"You can look now," Charles said a moment later, sounding amused.

Erik turned back.

"Need a mirror?" Erik didn't wait for an answer. He opened the closet door again, displaying the full-length mirror on the inside.

Charles looked at himself in the kilt, which hit him mid-thigh. He turned to Erik, and smiled as if to say _I win_.

Erik was struck by his confidence. Charles flirted like… like an old woman who was still a beauty. It was an incongruous thought, but it fit so well Erik smiled.

"Perfect," Erik said. "Almost."

He reached for the kilt, holding his hands a few inches from Charles's hips.

"May I?" Erik said.

"Do you even need to ask?" Charles looked up at Erik. Being shoeless and shorter didn't slow Charles down at all.

"Yes, I have to ask," Erik said. "No one in the club can touch you without your permission."

Charles lifted an eyebrow.

"If anyone does, come get me immediately," Erik said.

Crap. The words had come out with far more intensity than Erik had intended.

"Permission granted then, Erik."

Charles lifted his arms and clasped his hands behind his head, the exact pose Erik wanted to see Charles assume. If Charles was his boy, Erik would have his hands on Charles's nipples right now.

Erik touched the kilt's side buckles, loosening them with a faint push of his abilities, and tugged the kilt down until the upper curve of Charles's ass was exposed. The detail would prevent Charles standing out as a newcomer. At a gay leather club, no man wore clothing – if he wore clothing at all – hiked up to the waist.

That was Erik's excuse, anyway. His real reason was to see as much of Charles as possible. He was already regretting not watching Charles undress. But it was his turn to get ready for Saturday night cruising. He tightened the kilt's buckles and reluctantly let go.

Erik had prepared for nights like this dozens of times, so his movements were swift and routine.

He already had on his favorite black leather pants and motorcycle boots. He removed the black armband he wore while on DM duty, and tugged his white T-shirt off over his head. All he had on above the waist were the matte steel gauntlets he rarely took off.

The next steps were to lace a steel chain through his belt loops, and retrieve a knife for his boot holster from the dresser drawer.

Since Erik never used his abilities in front of anyone but a confirmed mutant, getting the knife into his knee-high boot would take more effort than usual. Two-way zippers ran down the sides of his pants from waist to ankle, so at least he didn't have to remove his pants to access the boot holster.

Holding the knife in his left hand, Erik sat on a chair, unzipped his right pants leg upward from ankle to thigh, and finally noticed Charles was staring at him.

Charles's eyes were huge.

It was a small but welcome revenge for Charles's flirting, so Erik took his time sliding the six-inch dagger into the sheath built into his boot. After zipping his pants leg closed, he stood next to Charles.

The mirror showed how good they would look together, naked, on his bed.

"Now I'm going to give you some advice," Erik said.

"Yes, please." Charles stared at the zippers running down the sides of Erik's pants.

"You're going to get a lot of attention tonight," Erik said. "So remember you don't have to take the first offer. Let's go."

"Erik, may I use your bathroom?" Charles said.

Erik hesitated, trying to remember if he'd left any dildos out, before he pointed at a door. "In there."

With Charles out of the room, Erik took the opportunity to review everything he knew about the boy.

One, Charles's apparent ability to sense Emma's psychic message over thousands of miles. Two, Charles's freakish maturity and confidence. Three, Charles posing just as Erik had imagined.

Four, and most gratuitous, Charles's curious emphasis on _Yes, please_ , as if he knew Erik wanted to hear him saying it.

It added up to Charles being a mutant, specifically a telepath.

Erik should have figured it out earlier, but his mutation generated interference, which blocked telepathy.

Emma had helped Erik hone his natural defense – she called it _static_ – until he could block her completely. If Charles could read Erik's thoughts even through the static, then Charles was a far more powerful telepath than Emma.

Erik could drop his static to be sure about Charles's telepathy, but he didn't want an eighteen-year-old in his head. He would ask Charles to come back tomorrow, when Emma would be around.

The toilet flushed. Water ran in the sink.

Done with thinking about the nature of Charles's mutation for the moment, Erik had time to worry about Charles's first-timer status.

 _A lot of attention_ had been a weak euphemism for what could happen.

Any boy new to a gay leather club, especially one as young as Charles, was expected to take a submissive role. With multiple partners. Repeatedly. Sometimes concurrently.

The dungeon monitors were around to make sure things didn't get out of hand, and the ban on alcohol and drugs prevented a lot of grief. But not all of it. All boys started out enthusiastic, but Erik had had to intervene on behalf of boys too exhausted to say yes. Or no.

The bathroom door opened. "What's that in the shower?" Charles asked from the doorway.

Erik walked over and waited for Charles to leave the narrow doorway. When Charles didn't, Erik gripped Charles's shoulders to move Charles aside.

It was a mistake. He'd been careful not to touch Charles's skin while adjusting the kilt. Once his hands met Charles's bare shoulders, his hands wanted to slide up and grip handfuls of Charles's thick hair.

Charles slumped against the door frame and looked up at him.

Erik let go of Charles. "In the shower? Just something I made."

Months earlier, he had connected a long steel-plated rubber hose to the showerhead. He used the hose on all of his partners. Earlier that evening, he'd used it on himself in case he ordered a man to rim him later.

Charles opened the glass shower stall door. Erik's breathing sped up when Charles wrapped his hand around the hose's nozzle and stroked it. He visualized Charles naked in the shower, wet skin glistening.

Aching to touch the metal hose and command it, Erik left the bathroom. He had to get Charles out of the studio. Fast. Before he tore the boy's clothes off.

Erik crossed the room and opened the door to the club.

"Wait, don't I need shoes?" Charles said, following him.

"You don't," Erik said. "Don't worry, the floor's clean. Bring your clothes with you."

"My clothes?"

"So I can put them in a locker for you," Erik said. "And bring your shoes with you. For the locker."

When Charles's smile faltered, Erik felt like a mean old man. But if Erik let Charles come back to the studio later to get his clothes, Erik was doomed.

* * *

After a stop at the lockers, they went down into the dungeon. At the bottom of the stairs, Erik halted to give their eyes time to adjust to the dim light.

The nearest equipment was a waist-high spanking bench. A naked young man was bent over it. An older man – Erik's age, dressed in Levi's, leather chaps, motorcycle cap – was using a switch on his ass.

After administering several strokes, the older man reached between the young man's legs and caressed his cock. His switch-wielding arm didn't slacken.

Erik looked at Charles to check his reaction, and was caught.

Charles's skin gleamed even in the low light of the dungeon. His pale eyes reflected Erik's lust.

Leaving the studio hadn't helped.

Erik touched the iron stair railing to ground himself. But he couldn't look away from Charles. The metal in the equipment around them – every bolt, chain, and stud, most made by Erik – strained toward Charles in empathy with Erik's desire.

There was only one thing to do. A defense Erik had perfected with a lifetime of practice. Disappear.

There was a catch. He had to give Charles some excuse, and dungeon protocol required he speak quietly to avoid disturbing others. He placed his mouth an inch from Charles's ear.

"I need a smoke," Erik said, trying to keep his lips from touching Charles's hair. "If you need help, look for the men with black armbands."

He hurried up the stairs, retrieved a cigarette from the studio, and went out into the chill night air in front of Club Avalon.

While he bummed a light from another member out on the sidewalk, Erik reproached himself for abandoning Charles among two hundred horny men.

A few calming puffs later, Erik reminded himself Charles was not as vulnerable as he appeared. If Charles was even half the telepath Emma was, the boy had nothing to fear from Avalon's members. After all, most members were merely human. Only after Avalon's official closing at two a.m. was the club restricted to mutants.

To put Charles out of his mind, Erik thought about Emma and Club Avalon instead.

Erik had met Emma the first time years earlier, when she was with Shaw. She had eventually switched allegiance and helped Erik take Shaw down. Thanks to Emma, Shaw was a vegetable now.

It was only a decade in the past, but it seemed hopelessly remote. In the 60s, Erik had joined mutant rights groups, and had believed complete equality was within reach. But the movement had collapsed due to a lack of leadership. The leaders had either burned out, or had been assassinated. Mutants like Erik returned to hiding. Only mutants with non-threatening powers were out of the closet now.

While the idealism of the 60s degenerated into the hedonism of the 70s, Erik went back to doing what he did best: hunting Nazis.

During that time, Erik heard rumors about Emma – she had taken over the Hellfire Club, and later disbanded it – but their paths hadn't crossed again until last year, when Erik was visiting San Francisco. He had run into Emma and her brother, Christian, at a bar in the Castro.

Emma had told Erik of the club she'd started, and had offered him a job there.

"I could use a metal worker."

"I don't need the money," Erik had said.

"Then I won't pay you."

Erik went to Club Avalon the next night.

The club was Eric's introduction to dominance-submission, but it had given him much more than that. Before Avalon, Erik had never wielded his power as a source of pleasure, only as a weapon. Discovering a new side to his power had been freeing, in more ways than one; it had somehow vastly increased his ability to control metal.

Bondage, his power over metal, his desires: the three went together so well it had been months before Erik came up for air. Hedonism had found him at last. He stayed at the studio apartment in the club whenever he was in town, which happened more and more frequently.

But a chance to use his power for pleasure was rare. Erik couldn't openly use his power around humans, and there were few mutants, so Erik had not met many he was attracted to.

Which brought Erik's thoughts back to Charles.

Telepath or not, the boy's first-timer status continued to worry Erik.

The expectation that Charles would submit to multiple partners wasn't an absolute rule. Perhaps it could be classed as a custom – or, at the least, extremely heavy peer pressure. Whatever it was, Erik knew what would be done to Charles that night. And how much he wanted to be the man doing those things.

No, it went further than that. Erik had to admit what he wanted, even if he wasn't going to act on it: he wanted to be the _only_ man doing those things.

But Riptide would get there first.

At least Riptide would be up to the task. Riptide was a switch, usually submissive, but he wouldn't pass up dominating a young boy like Charles – who wasn't innocent, but certainly looked it.

On Erik's first night at Avalon, he had submitted to Riptide, because that was leather tradition: newcomers got topped. So Erik knew from experience getting topped by Riptide was not exactly an unpleasant fate. Riptide was impossibly good-looking, enthusiastic, and nearly indefatigable, everything a boy like Charles could possibly want.

Most important, Riptide was a mutant. The idea that a gang of humans might use Charles that night made Erik clench his fists.

With any luck, Riptide would monopolize Charles, and no one else would get their hands on the boy. So Erik should stop worrying about Charles. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen?

It was an unfortunate question.

Erik suddenly pictured Sabretooth taking Charles apart, even though Emma had banned Sabretooth from the club months earlier.

The image was so monstrously vivid, Erik dropped his cigarette, sped through the lobby, and was down in the dungeon before he finished exhaling smoke.

* * *

Erik scanned the crowd, oblivious of the men flogging and fucking each other, seeking out only Charles.

There was no Sabretooth. Charles was with Riptide. They stood in a corner, talking.

Riptide was wearing nothing but the damned leather shorts that showed off his fantastic legs, and he had his hands on Charles's shoulders, their foreheads almost touching.

The boy is safe, and everything is fine, Erik told himself. Now go find someone else to fuck.

Erik might have taken his own advice. But Riptide chose that moment to handcuff Charles's hands behind his back.

At the sight of metal against Charles's skin, Erik had his hand up before he could stop himself, commanding the cuffs to open in spite of the humans around him.

But nothing happened. The handcuffs stayed put, not responding to Eric's command. Which meant the handcuffs were not metal.

Not real.

The illusory handcuffs disappeared. Charles's hands were at his sides, not behind his back. Riptide was still talking to him.

Erik walked up to them and put a hand on Charles's shoulder.

"We need to talk," Erik said.

Charles turned his head to look at Erik. If Charles smiled, Erik vowed to leave Charles alone the rest of the night. He did not like to be fucked with.

Charles didn't smile.

"Riptide," Charles said, still looking at Erik. "Go talk to the cute guy over there. He's been staring at you all night."

"Good idea," Riptide said amiably, and left.

Erik was about to launch into a speech about the dangers of telepathically crying wolf – Erik was sure of where his vision of Sabretooth had come from – when Charles swayed toward Erik and almost lost his balance.

First-timer giddiness apparently affected even telepaths, so Erik held his arms out to steady Charles.

Charles clasped Erik's hands, interlaced their fingers, and held on.

Erik had been propositioned by men grabbing his ass and his cock, by men going down on their knees and trying to unzip his pants with their teeth. But he couldn't remember any touch turning him on more than Charles's hands on his.

Perhaps it was because the touch of Erik's hands was wrecking Charles. Charles's pupils were dilated, he was breathing open-mouthed, and he looked like he would collapse against Erik in a few seconds.

The crying wolf lecture lost its urgency, but Erik still resolved to mentally run through the reasons to leave Charles alone – _too young, a newcomer, not your type really_ , and now Erik could add _can make you see things that aren't there_ – when Charles made a despairing sound of protest, as if he'd overheard Erik's long list of _No_.

With the sound, another illusion vanished. This time, an illusion of Erik's.

Erik had been imagining himself as a wise, disinterested mentor. But his disinterested mentor act was as false as the illusory handcuffs.

He wanted Charles so fiercely he had been hard for the last half hour. And he was rejecting the boy for what, being too young? Charles was more mature than the average thirty-year-old Erik took to his bed.

He took Charles by the hand and led him upstairs. He told Charles to sit on a couch, and bought two bottles of Coke from a vending machine. He handed a Coke to Charles and sat next to him.

"What did I say about taking the first offer?" Erik said.

"Actually, Riptide was the fifth," Charles said, uncertainty and hope warring on his face.

Erik laughed. Since he'd made up his mind to go after Charles, anticipation coursed through him, as sweet as a drug.

"Then this is the sixth," Erik said. "You be my boy – just mine – until you leave here."

"Yes, please." Charles's elated expression was another sweet jolt.

"Not so fast," Erik said. "There's more to talk about before you agree." Erik gripped that thought – _more to talk about_ – so he didn't lunge on top of Charles.

It was time for negotiation. Erik had to be sure Charles knew what he was getting into. But when Charles finished his Coke and leaned back into the sofa cushions, everything about his smile and posture an invitation, Erik decided he would forgive himself if he rushed negotiations tonight.

"Whenever I ask how you're feeling, I expect an answer," Erik said. "If you don't answer, we stop."

"Do I need a safe word?" Charles said.

Erik raised his eyebrows. He'd been about to start that part of his speech. "Nothing complicated. No means no. Stop means stop."

Charles nodded.

"Now for details," Erik said. "I'm into suspension, and forced sex. Are you?"

Charles stared at his mouth. "I think so. Yes."

"If you aren't, I have other suggestions," Erik said. So long as it ended with fucking. "What is off limits for you?"

Charles studied Erik, then smiled slowly. "Nothing, Erik." Charles reached for Erik, his hands about to land on Erik's chest.

Erik grabbed Charles's wrists. "No touching. Unless I give you permission." The admonition came out automatically. He was still reeling from the look on Charles's face when he'd said _Nothing, Erik_.

"May I touch you?" Charles said. "Please, Erik."

Erik put down his Coke and patted his lap. "Up you go."

Charles sat in Erik's lap and draped his arms around Erik's shoulders. His hair brushed Erik's neck. Their bare chests slid against each other.

Charles made a low noise. "God you feel good."

Erik somehow suppressed his own groan of satisfaction and relief. He tucked his arms under Charles's knees and armpits, cradling Charles as if he was about to carry Charles over a threshold. He dragged Charles across his lap, pressing his erection against Charles's ass.

When Charles moaned, Erik kissed him. He softly mouthed Charles with his lips, but inside he was out of control and wanted to bite.

Erik stopped the kiss while he had the breath to talk. "I want to put a collar on you–"

"Yes, please," Charles said.

"–to wear as long as you're here," Erik finished.

He kissed Charles again, longer this time, only halting when he was about to put his hands under the kilt. The club didn't permit sex in the social area.

"How are you feeling?" Erik said.

"Fine. Oh. You want a real answer." Charles breathed hard. "I feel impatient."

"One last thing, Charles."

Erik concentrated on suppressing his static. He was careful not to completely remove his shield. This was not the time for Charles to root around in his memories.

When he seemed to have accomplished it, Erik projected, _You don't have to leave at closing time. The club's mutant-only after that._

A huge grin appeared on Charles's face. _Can you hear me now, Erik? What was that? God, it made you hard to read!_

 _Didn't stop you from making me see the handcuffs_ , Erik thought. _And Sabretooth._

 _Sorry about Sabretooth._ Charles did not sound sorry in the least. _I got his image from Riptide. I could send you images, but not words. I could hear you, but you couldn't hear me._

 _Were you even trying with the handcuffs, Charles? I knew they were an illusion within two seconds._

Charles grinned. _Wouldn't you like to know._

 _I'm impressed you picked up Emma's message in New York_ , Erik thought.

Charles unsuccessfully tried to look modest. _Most of the message was faint. I heard the club's name from Emma, and the location, San Francisco. That was about it._

Erik kissed Charles again. With the static turned down, he could sense even more strongly how much Charles wanted to be kissed, touched.

 _What exactly is your power, Erik?_

Relying on the ultraviolet gloom to conceal what he was doing from the non-mutant club members, Erik removed the steel gauntlet from his right forearm, reshaping it into a collar around Charles's neck. He made the collar graceful and intricate, like ironwork he'd seen in Spain.

Charles closed his eyes.

Erik adjusted the collar without touching it. "Can you feel that?" His voice nearly cracked. He had never used his power to collar someone before.

 _I can feel you doing it, yes._ The look on Charles's face was blissful.

"There's no key. Or lock. Do you mind?" Erik pressed his face against Charles's neck, licking the skin just under the collar.

Charles's cheek moved in a smile against Erik's forehead. _I know the club has a hacksaw. Now I know why._

Erik sat back and laughed. "We won't need the hacksaw. Do you have any questions before we start?"

"I'm not sure what you mean by forced sex," Charles said. _Except not a standard rape fantasy, right?_

 _What could you possibly know about rape fantasies?_

 _More than you can possibly imagine, Erik._

"Fair enough," Erik said. "I mean a hard takedown. Submission obtained through physical force, or restraints. Is that clearer?"

Charles wet his lips with his tongue. _Should I resist?_

Erik smiled. _If I give you the chance._

"What should I call you, sir?" Charles asked.

Erik didn't have an immediate answer.

He usually called his partners _boy_ , and they usually called him _daddy_. The titles were customary, and didn't hold a special charge for Erik. He'd asked Charles to be his boy without a second thought. But what should Charles call him? Unlike Erik's previous partners, Charles was actually young enough to be his–

Erik didn't complete the sentence. "Sir is fine for now."

He stood, picking up Charles with him. All he needed was a threshold.

 _What are you doing?_ Charles asked. _I can feel you doing something._

"Getting us a room," Erik said. His favorite private play room downstairs now had a locked door. A few seconds before, it hadn't had a lock.

He carried Charles down to the room. The door opened, then closed behind them.

The moment Erik set Charles on his feet, Charles's kilt unbuckled and hit the floor. Erik's chain belt left his waist and wrapped around Charles's chest, imprisoning his arms at his sides. Charles gasped when the links joined up.

Erik enjoyed the view he'd denied himself in the studio: except for the chain and collar, a completely naked Charles.

He took off his left gauntlet, trusting Charles to be too distracted to notice what it concealed. The gauntlet flowed into a leash which attached to Charles's collar. The other end of the leash wrapped around Erik's left wrist.

"How are you feeling, boy?" Erik asked.

Boy. He had planned to avoid that form of address. It had come out on its own.

"Still impatient, sir," Charles said. _But glad you're not impatient._

"Can you stop reading my thoughts?" Erik asked, curious.

"I can, sir," Charles said. _But it wouldn't be fair._

Erik grinned. "I don't remember fairness being part of the discussion."

"It's not fair to use your abilities if I can't use mine," Charles said. "Sir."

Erik considered this. "You want me to stop using my abilities?"

 _No!_

Erik winced.

"Sorry," Charles said. _It's part of you. Even more than my telepathy is part of me. I want it. Please, sir._

Erik couldn't turn down a request like that. Not that he had any desire to.

"It's fine," Erik said. "But try not to see what I'm planning."

Erik was going to need every scrap of patience he had. There were so many things to do, to try. But before he could seriously think about any of them, he would have to take the edge off first. For both of them.

First he removed the leash, and the chain belt around Charles's chest; they were about to be in the way.

In the corner were two coils of steel chain, each fifty feet long and a half inch in diameter. The links were so fine and compact the chain resembled silver rope.

An end jumped into Erik's outstretched hand when he took a step toward Charles. Charles groaned.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't see your plans, it's just your face–"

"It's all right," Erik said, smiling.

Leaving the chain suspended in air, Erik used his power to unzip the sides of his pants and toss the pants aside. It left him in a leather jock strap, and motorcycle boots which laced up to the knee.

When Charles made another noise, twice as desperate as the previous one, Erik decided he was taking things too slowly.

The chain flew through the air, wrapping around Charles and pulling him off his feet, until Charles was hogtied, stomach down, and suspended three feet above the floor. Finished, the chain found four bolts in the ceiling.

From beginning to end, it took thirty seconds. Erik could have done it faster.

"Fuck," Charles gasped. "Sir."

 _Now you know what a hard takedown is, Charles._

Standing alongside Charles, Erik grabbed his hair in one fist, and swung him a few inches forward, then back. Testing.

Erik bent over so he could whisper into Charles's ear. "How do you feel?"

"Good, sir. Very good."

Erik ran his hands over Charles anyway, adjusting the metal, smoothing rough edges. He paid extra attention to Charles's hips, moving the chain to outline Charles's balls and cock and hold them firmly.

Erik stroked Charles's cock and admired it; he couldn't wait to have it in his mouth. He could flip Charles over, face up, and suck it right now. But he had other plans.

"Still comfortable, boy?"

"I'm fine, sir," Charles said. _God, I hate you right now._

"You're going to hate me more." Erik moved to stand in front of Charles, which put Charles's face inches from his crotch.

Charles groaned so loudly Erik smiled.

"Now you're getting it," Erik said.

Using Charles's hair as a handle, he swung Charles to and fro, Charles's mouth bumping his leather jockstrap. He adjusted the chains to raise Charles slightly higher, until he was satisfied the angle was perfect.

He removed the jockstrap, standing to the side so Charles couldn't reach his cock.

 _Still hate me?_

 _You have no idea. But please don't stop, sir._

Erik ran his thumb over Charles's lower lip, then thrust the thumb in.

Charles sucked hard, until Erik withdrew his thumb.

"I know you can tell me to stop, even when your mouth's full," Erik said. "So I don't plan to stop unless you ask."

"Yes, sir," Charles gasped onto Erik's hip. _Erik, you should know your cock is much larger than any I've ever had in my mouth._

Erik knelt on one knee, bringing his face level with Charles's. "You're a good boy for telling me."

He kissed Charles, intending it to be quick, but Charles sucked on his tongue frantically.

By the time Erik broke away from the kiss, he was desperate to get his cock in Charles's mouth. He rested his hands lightly on Charles's hair, telling himself to be patient. Then he pressed his cock against Charles's lips.

They both groaned as his cock sank into Charles's mouth. Erik released Charles's hair, using the chains to move Charles against him, his cock sliding deeper.

Carefully, he pushed into Charles's mouth until Charles's breathing turned harsh. Eased out. Back in. Out. Established how deep he could go without Charles choking on him.

Once he knew Charles's limit, Erik held Charles's hair with both hands, and for a glorious minute he fucked Charles's mouth as fast as the chain suspension allowed. Then Erik pulled out entirely and listened to Charles's breathing.

It was ragged. No, worse. Labored.

Without Erik consciously willing it, the collar expanded and flowed away from Charles's neck, re-forming as a gauntlet on Erik's left arm.

"Please don't stop, sir," Charles said, his voice raw. "You said you wouldn't stop."

Erik stroked a hand down Charles's back. "Sorry, boy." _You're no good to me if you pass out._

"I wouldn't have–"

 _You would. Trust me, I know the signs. There's nothing to be ashamed of. This takes practice, Charles, like everything else._

At Erik's command, the chains gently unwrapped Charles and set him on his feet. Charles immediately dropped to his knees and got his mouth around Erik's cock.

"Good boy," Erik said. He would let Charles set the pace.

Charles held Erik's hips, and used his arms to move his upper body back and forth, his mouth sliding wet and tight.

When Erik caressed Charles's hair, there was an unfamiliar rush of pleasure in Erik's scalp, a sensation bleeding through from Charles. It was enough to push Erik over. He came so hard a chain wrapped around his arms to steady him on his feet.

He pulled Charles up and kissed him, tasting himself.

Charles's cock pressed against his thigh. Charles's hands squeezed his ass.

"Oh god sir _please_."

Keeping their mouths together, Erik gripped Charles's cock in one fist. "I want you to–"

His knees buckling, Charles shuddered against Erik.

Erik held Charles upright through the orgasm, kissed him through it, Charles's come landing on Erik's hand, his thighs, his cock.

"Thank you, sir." Charles put his arms around Erik's neck and pressed his face against Erik's chest. "Wow. I can barely stand right now."

Erik couldn't stop smiling. He knew eighteen-year-olds climaxed quickly – he could remember being eighteen himself – but Charles's nearly instant response to his touch was still gratifying.

"Let's go back to my place," Erik said. "How does that sound?"

"Yes, please." Charles smiled. "Good thing it's so close."

After wiping himself and Charles down with paper towels, Erik dressed swiftly, manipulating metal buckles and zippers. Once he confirmed his left gauntlet was on, he re-formed Charles's collar and added a chain leash.

"Ready?" Erik sent the kilt to a corner.

"You want me to go out naked?"

"You're not naked." Erik tightened the collar as a reminder, and tugged gently on the chain.

"Yes, sir," Charles said. But he looked reluctant.

 _You can tell me what's bothering you_ , Erik thought. _I won't be disappointed._

Charles smiled but said nothing, his mouth and mind silent.

"Put on the kilt." Erik held his hand out for it; it came.

"Sir, I–"

"Put it on, boy."

* * *

Instead of going directly to the studio, Erik led Charles to a couch in the social area, and told him to sit.

Erik sat beside him, put an arm around Charles's shoulders, and pulled him close. He kissed the top of Charles's head. Then Erik waited.

It wasn't long before the parade started: the usual members who liked to check out who was with whom. They greeted Erik, and smiled at Charles, but didn't speak to him.

 _You're showing me off_ , Charles thought.

"That's part of it," Erik said. _I'm letting everyone know you're taken for the night._

 _Sorry, sir. I thought you were going to do something else._

Erik stopped nuzzling Charles's hair. _What? Humiliate you? God, no. Life's too full of humiliation as it is._

Charles pushed against him, relaxing.

"How do you feel?" Erik asked.

"Better," Charles said.

It wasn't a real answer. Something was off.

 _Show me how you feel, Charles. All of it._

Charles looked at him. _Everything? We should go back to your place first, sir._

* * *

In the studio, Erik poured Scotch for them. This time, he added a generous amount of soda water.

Charles lay on the bed and held his hand out for the drink.

It was the first time a boy had made himself so at home in Erik's studio. But then Charles was no ordinary boy.

"Have I worn you out already?" Erik placed the drink in Charles's hand.

"Not tired," Charles said, and yawned. "Maybe some jet lag."

Leaving his own drink on a table, Erik sat on the bed and removed his boots. He stretched out next to Charles, resting his right hand on Charles's chest.

Charles rolled toward him, draping an arm over Erik. Erik brushed hair off Charles's forehead. Charles's eyes closed, and stayed closed.

Erik took the drink out of Charles's hand and set it on the floor, then carefully removed Charles's collar and leash.

"Not tired." Erik smiled. "Right."

* * *

Consciousness returned abruptly for Erik, as it always did.

There was the usual burst of panic – _what now, what now_ – until he remembered where he was: the studio, his five hundred square foot temporary kingdom.

Someone touched him. He flung his arms out protectively.

"Erik. Erik!"

Erik sat bolt upright.

Charles pushed him flat. "Erik, calm yourself."

"Sorry." Erik breathed in deeply, released the breath slowly. "Did I hit you?"

"No," Charles said. "But you hid a lot from me, my friend." He squeezed Eric's left arm.

Shit.

Some people kicked off blankets when they went to sleep. Erik sometimes kicked off metal.

His chain belt and his gauntlets were gone. His tattoo was no longer hidden.

At least Erik had confirmed the partial static shield he'd left up was effective. If Charles was surprised by the tattoo, then Charles still didn't know everything there was to know about him. And it seemed Charles was unaware the remaining shield even existed. Either the shield could not be detected, or Charles had made no attempt to access Erik's memories.

"How long have we been asleep?" Erik asked.

"Almost an hour."

Erik held up his hands. The gauntlets returned, blanketing the past.

"Do you have to use your hands to control metal?" Charles asked.

"No," Erik said, relieved Charles wasn't pursuing the subject of his tattoo. "But it's easier."

"You have more power than you know," Charles said.

"Perhaps," Erik said shortly. He did not want to recall the time when establishing the extent of his power had been at the top of someone's agenda.

"You asked me to show you everything I was feeling earlier," Charles said. _Do you still want me to?_

 _Yes, Charles._

 _Then I should start at the beginning, when I heard Emma._

Charles lay next to Erik, and touched Erik's forehead with two fingers.

There was a piercing noise. Erik gripped Charles's arms, about to push him away, when the noise shifted to light, then to words.

No, not words. _Symbols_ was the closest Erik could get.

Symbols without shape, or color, or sound, but somehow dense with meaning. For a while, Erik was lost in enjoyment of them.

 _Is this your mind, Charles?_

 _No, Erik. It's you. I saw this, and you, with Emma's message. How–_

 _I tried to boost her signal by smoothing interference. It was an experiment. I wasn't sure if it would work._

 _So that's why I felt you. I knew you were here, Erik. I came to find you._

The symbols faded, overlaid with Charles's urgency to get to San Francisco, a first-class Pan Am flight, taking a cab to Club Avalon. Charles in the lobby, thinking _I must find Erik_ so hard Banshee sent Christian to get him. Then successive images of Erik: his hands, his smile, his leather pants. It was like a slideshow, except Erik was in the frame, experiencing it as it happened.

Then nothing _but_ Erik's hands: flicking a metal lighter, gripping the brass handle on the club's front door, touching the steel buckles on Charles's kilt, and finally their hands clasped together, fingers interlaced, and Charles was sure now it was Erik he'd perceived along with Emma's message, it had to be, but Erik couldn't hear him–

 _Are you all right, Erik? Am I going too fast?_

Erik was dazzled. It was his first real glimpse of Charles's power. But he sensed Charles needed him to be nonchalant about it for now.

"I'm fine, Charles. So you like my hands."

Charles laughed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Charles's point of view slid away, the symbols returning. One in particular was repeated numerous times. Charles pushed it to the forefront.

"Erik, what is it?"

"An instruction," Erik said. "To electrons." He did not know how he knew it, but he was certain.

Charles's face lit up. "That's amazing, Erik."

"I didn't know these things were in my head, Charles." _Or that my power was–_

 _On the sub-atomic level?_ Charles grinned. _The symbols – that's a good word for them – originate in your unconscious mind. In the language and respiratory centers, to be precise._

Erik was no longer dazzled. He was stunned. Experiments conducted on mutants had concluded it was impossible for a telepath to access the unconscious. If Charles could, then he was the first. The only.

 _Thank you for showing them to me, Charles._

 _I've never seen anything like them before, Erik. Will you teach me what they mean?_

"I'll try," Erik said. _But not right now, Charles._ He pulled Charles's body against his, eager to hold all that power in his arms.

 _There's more_ , Charles projected. _It's about my not wanting to be naked out in the club._

"I said you could tell me, and I wouldn't be disappointed," Erik said. _I meant it._

Charles touched Erik's forehead again. _Then here goes._

More images of the evening, but fundamentally altered: Erik made a collar, but for his own throat, and handed the leash to Charles. The chain that had wrapped around Erik's arms, to steady him when he came, turned into a mass of metal, holding Erik motionless while Charles sucked his cock.

The theme was obvious. Erik using his power over metal to make himself powerless. For Charles.

"Everything we did, you fantasized in reverse?" Erik asked.

"Not exactly," Charles said. "But I suppose… Yes."

"Then why–" Erik began.

"Did I agree to be your boy? To learn, Erik." _And because I want you_ , Charles added.

Erik swallowed hard. "I've never used my power for that. To restrain myself for another."

"I know," Charles said. "But you hadn't met _me_ yet."

Erik smiled. _True. But I'm too old to be anyone's boy, Charles._

Charles's eyebrows turned into a dark line. "Are you hesitating because I'm younger?" _I know what the humans at the club think, Erik. They see me as just a boy. But you know what I really am. You and I don't have to follow their hidebound rules._

Erik was stung. "That's not it at all, Charles."

Before Erik could explain, Charles interrupted. Arguing with a telepath was hell.

 _I see, Erik. It's because your partners were human, and you don't submit to humans. Or even to mutants, if you think their powers are weak. And you've never met someone stronger than yourself._

Erik opened his mouth to deny it, then closed his mouth firmly.

 _I know you'll never submit, Erik. I don't want you to submit. I want you to give yourself to me._

Erik still hesitated. Giving himself was a million times more frightening than submission. But Charles wouldn't know that.

"I do know it," Charles said. "Erik, I know how you feel, because I feel it, too. I've never met anyone so powerful before."

There was an undercurrent to Charles's words Erik was not picking up. But he knew one thing. He had never met someone so powerful before, either.

And he had to make up his mind. Charles would not wait indefinitely for Erik to come to a decision.

Below the surface of Erik's thoughts, below the static, a thought stirred. _Say yes or Charles will lose interest._ Erik stuffed it down, but his body, still pressed against Charles, was sending urgent messages of its own. _Hold on, don't let go._

Erik reassured himself. He'd submitted before, to Riptide, and enjoyed it. Why not experiment? Why not let Charles experiment?

"Permission granted, then," Erik said.

Charles slid his kilt off and kicked it away.

Erik allowed Charles to undress him and push the pants aside. Charles's hand skimmed over Erik's jockstrap, searching for a buckle. Erik made one to find.

When Erik was naked, Charles pushed Erik's legs apart, knelt between them, and looked down at Erik.

Charles smiled. "I know what you did in the shower earlier. With your hose."

Erik tried not to picture it, but of course he did: standing in the shower, cleaning himself out, thinking about finding a man to rim him later.

Submitting to Charles suddenly seemed less of an ordeal. If Charles was going to rim him, Erik was all for it.

"Erik, hold your legs up for me."

Erik put his hands under his knees, lifted his legs.

 _No, Erik, with the chains, I know you have a pile of them under this bed–_

"Sling." Erik let his legs drop. "We need a sling."

Charles growled. "Hurry."

Erik found it by its grommets. Summoned, the leather sling appeared next to the bed, and anchored to the ceiling with chains and bolts. Now Erik had to get off the bed and get to it.

When Erik was on his back in the sling, his feet in the chain stirrups, Charles stood between his legs and looked at him avidly.

Charles gripped Erik's waist. _Your legs. Higher._

Erik answered by shortening the chains anchoring the sling to the ceiling, raising himself and the sling nearly to the height of Charles's chest.

"There," Charles said. "Perfect."

Erik tried to relax, and not jerk his legs in anticipation. He wasn't altogether successful. The chains clanked and hummed.

Charles touched Erik all over, starting with his chest. Stroked his skin, teased his nipples, fingertips barely brushing Erik's thighs.

Finally, Charles's mouth landed on Erik's hip. While Charles gently licked his hipbones, his inner thighs, Erik's frustration shot up.

"You're in such a hurry," Charles said, his voice muffled. _I know it's been a while for you, but this is my first time rimming someone. I plan to take my time._

Erik twisted chains around his wrists, attached them to the support chains. The more unendurable Charles's teasing, the more the chains intervened. They clamped Erik's impatience down, held him for Charles.

Charles licked Erik's skin, inhaled. _You smell fantastic, Erik._

Charles sent an image of chains wrapped around Erik's cock and balls, lifting them out of the way. Erik obliged, and responded to Charles's swift demand _Make them tighter_.

He was so caught up in obeying Charles's desires, the first touch of Charles's tongue on his ass took him by surprise.

 _Oh god Erik make that sound again._ Charles pressed down hard with his tongue, then flicked it back and forth.

Erik groaned and tried to move. But the chains had anticipated him. He couldn't move at all.

Charles mirrored Erik's thoughts back to him. _You can't get away from my tongue, from feeling this, you're going to get fucked so hard, you're going to hold still for me, Erik._

"Fuck. Damn it." Erik panted until he was light-headed, his hands and feet tingling. It had been months since he'd had anything in him other than a dildo. _Don't make me wait any longer, fuck me, Charles, please._

Charles straightened up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked down at Erik with dazed lust.

The chains released Erik's wrists. He stretched a hand out. The fridge opened, and a foil-wrapped stick of margarine flew out of it, landed in Charles's hand. The fridge door slammed shut.

Erik dropped the sling to the height of Charles's hips. Charles smeared margarine on his cock, smeared it on Erik, positioned himself, and pushed in, a single relentless shove.

"Ow, fuck, don't stop," Erik cried out.

Charles leaned forward, his cock buried in Erik's ass, and kissed Erik slowly. He snapped his hips back, then forward.

 _Feel that, Erik?_

 _Yes, more, more._

Charles straightened up, gripped Erik's waist, and fucked Erik hard, the sling doing away with the usual constraints of gravity and mass.

Erik's thoughts fell apart.

But it seemed Charles could think through anything.

 _God, that's an even better sound, Erik. Do you want to touch your cock now? You can't. Not with your hands. Only with the chains. Like that, yes._

Erik's eyes wanted to close, but he kept them open to watch Charles, whose head was thrown back, jaw clenched.

 _Erik, you're about to come._

Erik disagreed.

Erik couldn't form a coherent sentence, but he knew his body well. Thanks to the blowjob earlier, he could make this last. He was determined to.

"Erik," Charles said, his voice rasping. _Keep yourself still for me. For my cock._

Erik's control slipped with each word Charles said in his mind. He struggled to regain it, pull back.

Charles gripped Erik's waist tighter, slammed in harder.

 _Erik, I’m going to come, you're going to make this boy come–_

Erik had no time to analyze what destroyed his control – the words themselves, Charles's outrageously sexy voice speaking directly in his mind, or the two together – because _make this boy come_ burned through him, and he was coming with the words still ringing in his mind.

Over the sound of his own voice yelling, Erik heard the chains restraining him leap away, hit the wall, crash to the floor. Charles cried out, his hips jerking as he came.

Charles bent forward, rested his chest on Erik's for a moment, then gripped Erik's wrists.

"Up, Erik. Come on. The bed."

They staggered to the bed and collapsed side by side. Erik closed his eyes and smiled at the ceiling.

Four minutes later, when his breath came back, Erik said admiringly, "God, that was dirty."

"I think I could be dirtier," Charles said. "You're inspiring."

Erik pulled Charles against him, kissed his mouth. "You're amazing."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"It was perfect," Erik said, and kissed Charles again.

Charles yielded to the kiss with such gentleness, Erik's chest ached.

Charles found Erik's forgotten drink and held it to Erik's lips. Erik took a few swallows. Charles drank the rest.

"So you're still my boy?" Erik began the question lightly, but by the end he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Charles grinned, and plunged Erik into a slideshow of images and emotions Charles had skimmed from Avalon's members: Erik chaining them, fucking them, making them beg for his cock. The most intense were from Riptide. After topping Erik once, Riptide had submitted to him. During a three-day period, they had destroyed two play rooms.

Throughout the slideshow, Erik could sense Charles's respect and hunger for his knowledge and authority. It was a heady feeling.

 _Of course I'm still your boy_ , Charles sent.

The word _always_ floated in the air between them.

Erik sat up and adopted a brisk manner. Nothing lasted forever. Particularly nothing good.

"Speaking of dirty, I should take a shower," Erik said.

"Me, too," Charles said.

"After that, breakfast," Erik said.

Charles sat up. "Really? I'm starving."

"Really," Erik said, smiling at Charles's eager expression. "Christian cooks breakfast for everyone when mutant-only hours start. There's a kitchen on the main floor we open after two. It must be nearly two now."

"Christian's not a mutant," Charles said.

"No. But he's Emma's brother, and a damned good cook." Erik lay flat again and closed his eyes. Explaining breakfast had worn him out.

"Shower?" Charles said.

"In a minute," Erik said.

"I'll go first." Charles got up and returned with a towel for Erik. "You rest," Charles said smugly.

A few minutes later, Erik hauled himself out of bed. After a quick wipe down with the towel, he turned his attention to putting the room in order. Chains back under the bed. Sling in the closet. Fresh sheets. A few clean towels tucked under the mattress.

Erik checked the clock. It was ten after two, so he didn't bother to dress, just wrapped a towel around his hips before going out into the club to retrieve Charles's clothes from the lockers.

Mutants were gathering in the social area. The door to the galley kitchen was open. A mouth-watering smell wafted out.

Back in the studio, Erik had just placed Charles's clothing and shoes on a chair when Charles finally emerged from the bathroom.

"For you." Erik pointed to the clothes. He didn't have much subbing experience, but he knew what services subs were expected to perform.

"Thanks." Charles looked pleased.

Erik took a fast shower; he was starving, too. When he came out of the bathroom, Charles was dressed, and was waiting for him.

"I've been thinking about what I'd like you to wear," Charles said.

Erik smiled. He hadn't expected this.

"I think the leather jockstrap, and a collar," Charles said. "And barefoot."

Erik put on the jockstrap immediately, but the collar was going to take some thought. He settled on steel, smooth and completely seamless, gleaming like silver.

"That's perfect," Charles said, his voice low.

The desire and approval in Charles's voice made Erik's skin heat.

"Don't forget the leash," Charles said.

Erik attached a chain leash and let it hang in mid-air, ready for Charles to take it.

"I've also been thinking about what to call you," Charles said. "And what you should call me. I'm going to call you Erik. I want you to call me Charles. For now."

 _What? Why?_ For a moment, Erik thought he was being mocked.

 _You're giving yourself to me, not submitting_ , Charles projected.

Erik's skin heated again. He couldn't identify why. It wasn't embarrassment, or humiliation.

"Is there something else you'd rather call me, Erik?" Charles said, a teasing smile on his face.

"No, Charles," Erik said.

Charles took hold of the leash, opened the door to the club, and walked out, not looking back. Erik followed.

They had made it ten feet when Azazel materialized in front of them. Charles laughed, delighted by the surprise.

 _He's a teleporter, Erik?_

 _Yes, Charles. This is Azazel._

Azazel looked Erik over, but spoke to Charles, the man holding the leash. "Good evening. You're new here. Welcome."

"Good evening." Charles smiled. "I'm Charles. Thank you."

Charles walked to the center of the empty dance floor, and stopped. The light system and music were still going.

Erik stayed close. He had to; the leash was only three feet long.

Twenty-eight mutants were lounging on the couches scattered throughout the social area. Aside from himself and Charles, there were only a few mutants with real power, all of them known to Erik: Banshee, Riptide, and Azazel.

The other mutants' powers were, sadly, no better than party tricks. A female mutant whose skin glowed in the dark. Another who could change radio stations with an eye blink.

But there was one mutant Erik had never seen before, a Black man in his late twenties. Erik first registered the man's build, then his mesh tank-top, which showed it to advantage.

Charles's attention focused on the man. _You don't know him, Erik?_

A surge of power from Charles made Erik grunt. He could feel Charles seeking out the new mutant's mind.

Charles was delighted again. _He heard Emma's message, too. He's a cab driver, calls himself Darwin. He drove here from New York without stopping. We have to talk to him right now. Oh, wait. He's as hungry as we are, and he's had even less sleep. It will have to be later._

 _Is he a telepath, Charles?_

 _No, he's isn't. But his power is amazing._

How had Darwin heard Emma from so far away, if he wasn't a telepath? It did not make sense.

 _Charles! You re-broadcast Emma's message, didn't you?_

Charles grinned. _I believe you're getting to know me, Erik._

 _You shouldn't have, Charles. What if Emma's message had been a trap for mutants? You should have made sure it wasn't._

In answer, Charles used the leash to draw Erik closer until they were standing inches apart. Then Charles touched Erik's forehead.

Erik tensed, wary of the piercing noise. He relaxed when he heard Emma's message, as Charles had heard it.

As Charles had told him, Emma's message was faint. But there was a powerful force surrounding it, ringing with strength and protection. Erik couldn't identify it until he caught a scrap of daydream from Charles, Charles saying _And that was the first time I met Erik Lehnsherr_ to an imagined future audience.

Charles touched Erik's neck, just above the collar. _I was sure, Erik. Emma's message was weak. But you weren't._

Erik wanted to think about what he had just learned from Charles, but he had to put it out of his mind for now. He had a duty to perform.

Charles had to be formally introduced to Club Avalon's mutants. For security reasons, new mutants had to account for themselves, and were sometimes asked to demonstrate their powers.

But Erik had never performed introductions while wearing a collar, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the visual incongruity of a young boy leading an older man on a leash.

Charles halted at the edge of the social area, and touched his forehead with two fingers.

 _Hi. I'm Charles._

The power of it was like a slap from an invisible hand.

Then everyone in the club vanished. Except Charles.

A few seconds later, the mutants re-appeared, drinks raised halfway to lips, smiles frozen on their faces. From the way they uneasily looked around, Erik knew they had experienced the same illusion; for several moments, they'd seen no one but Charles.

And now they were looking at no one but Charles, barely glancing at Erik.

Erik had an urge to laugh, but Charles was leading him toward the only empty couch, which was opposite the couch occupied by Riptide. Riptide already had a plate of food.

Charles sat in the center of the couch. Erik's stomach growled as he sat on the floor next to Charles's legs.

 _Disconnect the leash, Erik_ , Charles asked. _Now get us food before we faint._

When Erik entered the kitchen, Christian had two plates ready.

"Charles ordered in advance." Christian smiled and tapped his forehead.

The food was simple, the portions huge. Spicy beef patties, scrambled eggs, toast. Erik found two Corona beers in the fridge, and placed the plates and drinks on a tray.

When Erik returned with the tray, Charles and Riptide had been joined by Banshee, Azazel, and the new mutant, Darwin. They were deep in conversation.

Erik set the food and drinks on a cocktail table before Charles. Charles thanked him with a quick look and a touch of his hand, but didn't stop talking.

Erik sat on the floor, and for a few minutes devoted himself to eating. After he finished the food and gulped down half the beer, he looked around.

Banshee was explaining to Darwin and Charles that mutant-only hours were for all mutants, regardless of gender or orientation, because there weren't enough mutants for divisions to make sense.

"But now we have two more," Riptide said, smiling at Charles and Darwin.

"You may stay here as long as you like, Darwin," Azazel said, his tone commanding.

Erik sensed Charles's curiosity about that tone, and supplied the answer. _Azazel owns a third of the club. Emma and Riptide also own thirds._

"The girl you came with earlier," Banshee said to Charles. "Is she a mutant?"

"She is," Charles said. "She's also my sister."

It was a fortunate Erik no longer had food in his mouth; he would have choked in surprise.

It was envy tightening his throat. A sister, a fellow mutant no less. Charles was the luckiest man Erik had ever known.

There was no way Charles would be unaware of his reaction, so Erik looked up at him.

Charles was somber. _I'll bring my sister Raven to meet you, Erik, as soon as…_ Charles's serious expression disappeared, and he grinned. _As soon as you're wearing pants._

Erik smiled. _I'm entirely willing to wear pants, Charles. Is she a high-powered mutant, or–_ Erik glanced at the mutant who could change radio stations.

 _I think you'll be satisfied, Erik._

While Charles and Darwin discussed Emma's message, Erik stacked his and Charles's empty plates and bottles on the tray, preparing to take them back to the kitchen.

 _May I get you anything else, Charles?_ Erik asked.

 _No, Erik, I'm fine. Please clear everyone else's plates, however. And get Azazel a drink. He's really getting a kick out of you in the collar. If you brought him a drink on a tray, it would make his evening._

Erik tried not to smile, then gave up and grinned. _Azazel and I used to be enemies, Charles. We've had many battles. Most of which I won._

 _Then be sure to bow when you give him that drink, Erik._

Still smiling, Erik loaded the tray with dirty dishes. Charles's playfulness wasn't traditional, but Erik was getting used to it.

 _Oh, and Erik? When you get back, sit next to me._

Erik hurried to the kitchen.

After Erik brought Azazel a drink and sat next to Charles, Charles asked Erik to reattach the leash.

Erik did. Then, without being asked, he wrapped the end of the leash around Charles's wrist, and fused the links, connecting Charles to him firmly.

Charles grinned. "Why, thank you for that, Erik."

Charles put one hand on Erik's thigh and idly pulled at the hairs. _Is sex allowed on the couches, Erik?_

 _It isn't when the club's open, in case a tourist gets past the curtain._

 _So now is fine? Excellent._

Charles briefly glanced at everyone. Except for Riptide, they all left for another sitting area.

 _What's going on, Charles?_

 _I asked them to give us some privacy. I want you to suck my cock now._ Charles stroked Erik's lower lip with a finger. _Riptide wanted to stay. Start slow._

His mouth already watering, Erik knelt in front of Charles. He had been waiting for hours, it seemed, to suck Charles's cock – at least since he had suspended Charles in chains in the play room.

 _Hands behind your back, Erik._

Erik secured his hands with metal drawn from the gauntlets.

 _If you get tired, rest your head here._ Charles patted his knee. _Then keep going. Don't stop until I tell you. Damn it, my zipper is plastic. I'll unzip it for you._

Erik breathed on Charles's cock, and licked it. Charles had told him to start slow, so he would.

Charles was already hard. _By the way, Erik, I may be ignoring you for a bit. I'm going to talk to Riptide. But carry on._

Erik carried on. With each lick, Charles's cock rose up against his tongue. With his hands behind his back, Erik's leg and stomach muscles had to work hard to support him, and they began to burn pleasantly.

He was intermittently aware of the conversation going on around him – Riptide flirting with Charles, Charles flirting back.

After ten minutes, Erik rested his head on Charles's knee, giving his stomach and thigh muscles a thirty-second break. Charles stroked his hair.

When Erik returned to caressing Charles's cock with his tongue, Charles finally addressed him again.

 _Erik, does it bother you, being seen like this?_

 _No, Charles._

 _On your knees in front of a boy?_

Erik's skin heated again. The word _boy_ , in Charles's voice, retained its power to wreck him.

 _You are being looked at, Erik, you can be sure of that. But you're not embarrassed, are you?_

 _I’m–_ Erik was still unable to put a name to how he felt.

 _You're proud._ Charles sounded thoughtful.

Far too thoughtful for a boy with a tongue on his cock. Erik had to do something about that. He finally took Charles's cock into his mouth, and sucked.

 _I know what makes you proud, Erik._ Charles pushed images into Erik's mind, showing the fear on each mutant's face when they believed the others had vanished.

Erik groaned around Charles's cock, then sucked harder, concentrating on Charles's reactions, trying for the perfect speed, the perfect amount of pressure, wetness, suction…

Charles finally moaned. _God, Erik, you're getting off on this._

"Charles, you have a very–" Riptide halted, apparently uncertain how to refer to Erik.

Charles stepped in smoothly. "Thank you. Erik knows how to please his boy."

The praise went straight to Erik's cock, which was hard and uncomfortably compressed in his leather jock strap.

 _Riptide wants to touch you so badly right now, Erik. Oh, what was that? He liked to twist your nipples?_

Charles found the sensation, and played it back – amplified – tugging a moan out of Erik.

Charles put a hand under Erik's chin, making Erik look up at him.

 _You do please me, Erik. Very much. Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes while you suck my cock._

Erik realized he was gripping Charles's thighs; at some point, he'd discarded the improvised cuffs holding his hands behind his back. The height of his collar had decreased, letting him get more of Charles's cock in his mouth.

Charles moaned, and slumped back into the couch.

 _I'm going to ask you to stop, Erik. No, my dear, it's not anything you're doing. Well, it is, but it's not your fault. We're making Riptide uncomfortable. He's desperate to join in._

 _My dear_ hit Erik even harder than Charles's praise. He dug his fingers into Charles's thighs, holding Charles in place on the couch, anticipating Charles coming down his throat.

 _Please, Charles, don't make me stop._

Charles moaned again. A blast of wind hit Erik's back.

 _I'm sorry, Erik. Either we go back to the studio, or Riptide will accidentally destroy this room. Unless you want Riptide to join us?_

Erik didn't have to think about it.

 _No._

Gritting his teeth, Charles carefully tucked his hard cock into his pants, and zipped up.

* * *

Once they were in the studio, Charles said, "Take the leash off, Erik."

Erik disconnected them from it, then knelt in front of Charles. He rubbed his face on the thin material covering Charles's crotch.

Charles took an unsteady step, recovered his balance, and put his hands on Erik's shoulders, pushing Erik a few inches away.

"You're very persuasive," Charles said. "But I'm going to resist. Because I used the hose in your shower earlier."

Erik stilled. _So that's why it was such a long shower._

"You can't be surprised," Charles said. _I've had to listen to you think about fucking me through the floor since I arrived. You've never really stopped thinking about it._

Charles sent images, sensations of sitting in Erik's lap, Erik pressing his erection against Charles's ass.

 _Stand up, Erik._

Erik reluctantly obeyed, and put his hands on Charles's shoulders. Since Charles had on platform shoes, they were nearly the same height. It was inevitable they would kiss.

Charles was right; Erik hadn't stopped thinking about it. But he desperately wanted Charles to come in his mouth, and he was prepared to fight for it. He rubbed up against Charles, and fired a salvo. _Please let me suck my boy's cock._

It landed with effect. A shudder ran through Charles. When Charles stuck his tongue in Erik's mouth, Erik sucked on it, drawing a moan from Charles. Erik was about to drop to his knees and celebrate his victory.

Then Charles abruptly unloaded his entire sexual history into Erik's mind.

Erik saw each of Charles's lovers at high-speed, one after the other, as Charles compared them to Erik and found them wanting. Four boys, one girl, all near Charles's age. The girl had been first. She'd been nineteen, Charles sixteen. A few blowjobs with the four boys. Charles had fucked only one boy, and only twice.

As far as being on the receiving end of anal sex, Charles's experience amounted to absolutely zero.

 _The boy I tried it with was too afraid of hurting me, Erik. I could have overcome his inhibitions. But I didn't._

Erik was so staggered he took a step back. He had assumed Charles was much more experienced.

 _Not innocent or ignorant, Erik, but inexperienced? Yes._

Before Erik could react, Charles unloaded again, his thoughts hurried. _I want you to fuck me, you know what you're doing, it will be fantastic, please Erik I want you to be first._

"Charles," Erik began uncomfortably.

Erik didn't value virginity in the slightest. As far as he was concerned, it was a barbaric medieval concept–

Charles interrupted his thoughts. _Do you want someone else to break your boy in?_

Erik frowned.

 _Because I believe I could find a volunteer on the other side of that door, Erik._

"For god's sake, Charles."

 _Several volunteers. I mean, why stop at one, then you could have me at the end–_

"Charles," Erik said. "Stop talking."

It was unacceptable for Charles to try to use jealousy to get Erik to fuck him, and Erik was going to tell him why.

Charles headed him off by throwing back every possessive word of Erik's since they'd met. _I expect an answer, you be my boy, you're taken for the night, I don't plan to stop._ But that was just the warm-up.

Charles dragged a fantasy out of Erik's head that left Erik with a burning face and an achingly hard cock: Erik saving Charles from a dungeon gang-bang, carrying Charles back to the studio, Charles bruised and grateful while Erik fucked him, and, most damning of all, the refrain in Erik's head. _First first first._

Erik tried to think of something to say that wasn't already being said by his painfully hard erection.

He came up with nothing but _I guess I'm not finishing that blow job_.

He picked Charles up. Charles's shoes had metal buckles, so they were easy to get out of the way. He walked to the bed and dropped Charles on it. He yanked Charles's clothes off, throwing them over his shoulder.

Erik took off his jockstrap and held his cock, stroking it while looking down at Charles. When Erik thought _You asked for it_ , Charles's legs thrashed.

 _Are you going to use the sling?_ Charles continued to scissor his legs, as if trying to stay afloat.

"No." Erik knelt on the edge of the bed. _All I'm going to use is you, boy._

He dragged Charles to the center of the bed, covered Charles with his body, held Charles's face with his hands, and kissed him.

Charles's hands groped Erik's back, his neck, his hair. Erik savored the feeling of Charles moving against him. It was the first time every inch of their naked bodies had been pressed together.

When Erik held a hand out, searching for the Vaseline's metal tin, it nudged his wrist within seconds. He popped the lid off and scooped some out. He would regret the Vaseline when it was time to wash the sheets, but at the moment he didn't care.

He drove his tongue into Charles's mouth the same moment he pressed a finger inside Charles.

Charles arched under him, then moaned and rocked his body side to side, driving himself onto Erik's finger.

The intensity of Charles's response took Erik by surprise. Then Erik remembered Charles's strong reaction to his hands all evening. Their hands touching, his thumb in Charles's mouth. _I take it you like my hands_.

Erik should have realized it earlier. Charles could feel Erik's power though his hands. Charles _got off_ on his hands, and right now Erik had a finger inside an exceptionally sensitive part of Charles's body.

Erik hadn't intended to use his power while fucking Charles. He'd had a vague plan, _do it the old-fashioned way, it's Charles's first time_. But if Charles sensed Erik's power through touch, there was no reason to hold back.

Erik removed his finger, trying not to be affected by Charles's disappointed whimper, and got to work pushing lubricant into Charles. He began gently, then quickly figured out doing it in a business-like way made Charles thrash ecstatically.

Finished, Erik raised his right arm. A three-foot length of chain twined around it.

The chain slid down Erik's hand and wrapped around his middle finger. Two links collapsed into liquid metal, coated his finger, and hardened to create a shell.

 _Oh fuck Erik._ Charles squirmed.

Erik dipped his metal-clad finger into the Vaseline, then slid the finger into Charles. He bent his finger, the metal flexing with him.

 _Watch this, boy._

Charles focused his eyes in time to see the chain ripple down Erik's arm, as link after link fused to increase the girth around Erik's finger.

The metal encasing Erik's finger reached an inch in diameter, five inches in length. He moved his finger slowly, sliding it back and forth inside Charles, working it side to side.

Inch and a half in diameter, six inches long. Charles's fingers dug into Erik's back.

"Do you like that, boy?" Erik bent his finger, the metal responding instantly.

Charles closed his eyes and moaned.

Chain glided down Erik's arm. Nearly two inches wide, seven inches long. It was enough. He should stop.

 _Don't stop, Erik, don't stop._

Charles lost in sensation was the most enthralling thing Erik had ever seen.

 _Is this what you flew across country for, boy? Did you want me even before you saw me, when you were in New York–_

 _Fuck yes, Erik, I saw you, I heard you, I swear I could taste you._

Erik slid his finger out, told the metal to get the hell out of the way. He spread Vaseline on his cock, then rubbed the end of his cock against Charles's hole. When he pressed in, Charles gave.

The slide in ripped a shuddering cry out of Erik. Charles's legs wrapped around him. Erik supported his upper body on his hands and started to thrust, gravity and mass on his side.

 _Tell me you're my boy._

Charles answered immediately. _I'm your boy, Erik._

The words sent a fiery warmth through Erik, centering in his neck.

No, not his neck. In the collar. Erik still had it on. He'd nearly forgotten it.

The collar was hot, and getting hotter. But Erik wasn't making it hotter.

It had to be Charles making him feel it.

 _Yes, Erik. I am. No, don't slow down. Fuck me harder._

The collar tightened, its grip on Erik's throat merciless, threatening.

Erik told himself it was an illusion, that he could make the collar expand, could turn the metal numbingly cold, could smash the collar to atoms.

But it wouldn't matter. Erik knew with utter certainty Charles could stop his breath. Could reach into the respiratory center in his unconscious mind and turn him off like a light switch.

 _What do you want to call me, Erik?_

The collar flared with heat.

Water spilled out of Erik's eyes as he was wracked by the full force of Charles's power, finally revealed.

 _Master._

Charles's intoxicating approval surged through Erik.

 _I'm your Master, but I'm still your boy. No one else may understand that, but we do._

 _Yes, Master_ , Erik sent.

 _Good. Now understand this. You'll fuck me whenever I want. You'll come when I want. Come NOW, Erik._

The collar searing his neck, Erik came, driving his hips until he was spent.

 _Turn over_ , Charles commanded.

Erik lay on his back. Charles knelt over him, Charles's knees resting sharply on Erik's biceps. Erik gasped. It was the perfect amount of pain.

Charles pushed his cock into Erik's mouth, and gripped Erik's hair. _Suck your boy's cock._

Erik's entire being focused on Charles's cock in his mouth. Far behind it in importance was breathing. Far behind breathing was everything else.

A hard yank on Erik's hair brought him out of it, in time to taste Charles's come flooding his mouth.

Erik tried to swallow it all, but Charles pulled out. Before Erik could protest, Charles rubbed his cock, his come, all over Erik's face, until Erik was shaking with gratitude.

Charles lay on top of him, Charles's head heavy on his chest. Erik's mind and body were in a state of bliss. His slow, hazy thoughts came together – _that was the best sex I've ever had_ – then drifted apart again.

Then Erik realized Charles was panting as if he'd run a marathon.

Erik quickly slid Charles off him and leapt up to get juice from the fridge. He held the juice to Charles's lips until Charles drank it.

Charles's skin was covered in cold sweat. Erik put a blanket over him.

"Charles, are you all right? Talk to me!"

"I'll be fine." Charles pointed at the wall opposite the bed. _Sorry about the wall._

When Erik saw the collar embedded in the plaster, he touched his neck. It was bare, unharmed.

Charles smiled faintly. _You had the collar off as soon as you felt it heating, Erik._

"Never mind, Charles. Rest now."

Charles closed his eyes. _Manipulating your perception of metal. Not the easiest task I've set myself, my dear. And yes, you guessed right, I wasn't even trying with the handcuffs earlier._

Erik retrieved the clean towels he'd tucked under the mattress, and wiped Charles clean until Charles's skin was warm and dry again.

Charles was asleep before Erik finished. Erik wiped himself down and was asleep five minutes later.

* * *

Erik didn't wake up until noon on Sunday.

He carefully lifted Charles's arm, which was around his waist, and got out of bed.

After quietly starting the coffeemaker, Erik pulled the collar out of the wall, and re-formed it around his neck. Then he took a shower.

When he came out of the bathroom, Charles was sitting up in bed and sleepily rubbing his face. Erik brought him coffee, poured a mug for himself, and lay next to Charles.

Charles leaned against Erik. He stroked Erik's collar with his fingertips.

Erik felt terrific. Sore almost everywhere, dehydrated, but terrific. He sipped coffee, and thought of the next few hours with lazy anticipation.

The club was closed all day for the regular monthly barbecue, restricted to Avalon's inner circle of high-powered mutants – and Emma's brother Christian.

For the first time since Emma had opened the club, there were three new mutants to join them: Darwin, Charles, and Charles's sister Raven.

Emma and Angel would be at the club by now, helping Christian and Riptide with the food. Erik could already smell meat grilling on the club's small outdoor patio.

A cloud of sadness came off Charles.

"Erik, Raven and I can't stay long today. Our flight back to New York is at six tonight."

Erik pulled away from Charles. "Then I should put on some pants," Erik said eventually.

Charles briefly closed his eyes.

"I've asked Raven to check out of our hotel and bring our luggage here, so we can stay as long as possible," Charles said. "But we'll have to leave at four."

There was silence, then Charles sent _Erik, I'm leaving for Oxford in three days_.

"Congratulations," Erik said. "What about Raven?"

"Raven's going with me."

Erik saw a flash of a huge, empty house; unintentional sharing on Charles's part.

"What are you studying?" Erik asked.

"Genetics." Charles flushed. For the first time, he seemed like an eighteen-year-old boy. "It's the best way I know how to help our people."

Charles went to shower, so Erik took the opportunity to tidy the room again. Another batch of clean sheets for the bed. He'd have to do laundry on Monday.

Erik was not happy, but he couldn't fight reality. Of course Charles would go off to school, move on with his life.

Erik had just finished dressing in Levis, a white T-shirt, and boots, when Charles sent an agitated message.

 _My sister's almost here, I'm still in the shower._

 _Don't worry, Charles, I'll meet her._

Erik went out front to look for Raven.

A cab pulled up. The driver double-parked, popped the trunk, and unloaded two bulging carry-on bags with the Pan Am logo.

An entirely normal-looking blond girl exited the cab. Erik paid the cab driver, took the bags, and opened the club door for the girl, locking it behind them.

Before Erik could introduce himself, the girl shifted into the old man who worked at the corner liquor store.

Erik gaped, caught between awe and simple shock.

The old man shifted into a woman with blue skin, red hair, golden eyes, and a mischievous smile. Raven's true form, Erik knew instantly. He wondered how often she showed her real self.

 _Charles, are you listening? Your sister is gorgeous._

 _I know. Erik, would you mind bringing my bag to me? I'd like to get dressed. You do realize you broke the zipper on my pants last night._

Charles began a telepathic introduction. _Erik, my sister Raven. Raven, this is Erik._

"Sorry you couldn't get into the club last night." Erik set down the bags.

"Don't be sorry," Raven said. "I could have got in if I wanted to. But I went down the street to The Stud."

 _Not another word, please!_ Charles begged. _Wait, really, Raven? What happened?_

Raven sighed. "Don't worry, all I did was dance. Are you in the bathroom, Charles? I told you never to talk to me when you're in the bathroom."

Erik reached to shake Raven's hand, but she hugged him instead.

Erik's mood lifted. Charles was leaving, but the last twenty-four hours had still been incredible. Erik had met Charles, Raven, and Darwin so far. Who else might turn up in response to Emma's message?

Picking up Charles's bag, Erik brought Raven into the club. Angel immediately came over and seized Raven's hand.

Erik knew Angel would be ecstatic to meet another young female mutant. Since the forced sterilization case the previous summer, female mutants were more closeted than ever. Fewer and fewer came to the club.

"Angel, this is–"

"I know who she is, Erik." Angel touched her forehead, then moved her fingers and thumb in the flapping gesture indicating someone talkative.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Raven said. "My brother is kind of bad at boundaries."

"Go on, Erik, take care of that." Angel pointed at the bag he carried. "I'll introduce Raven to everyone."

By the time Erik left them, Angel and Raven were sitting down together, talking animatedly.

When Erik entered the studio, he found Charles in the bathroom, standing naked before the sink and shaving his non-existent beard with Erik's razor.

Erik refilled his coffee cup, sat in the studio's only armchair, and watched Charles get dressed. It was a sight worth seeing. Charles put on gray slacks, a light blue button-down shirt, a dark blue cardigan, and black Oxford shoes.

Charles noticed Erik's grin, and flushed slightly. "We didn't pack much. This is all I have to wear."

"You must be the last person on earth still dressing up for a plane trip, Charles. Don't worry, you look adorable."

When Erik and Charles entered the club, Raven ran to Charles and hugged him.

With one arm around Raven's waist, Charles turned towards Erik and extended his other arm, making a _come here_ motion.

Erik walked over. Charles put his arm around Erik's waist and pulled Erik in.

"I thought I was going to like you," Raven said to Erik. "But you let him wear a cardigan to a barbecue."

Charles laughed, then his eyes went to Erik's arms. _Erik, you're not wearing your gauntlets._

 _It's going to be warm today, Charles, for once._

Banshee went into the DJ booth and fired up the Motown hits. Raven swayed to the music, pushing Charles into Erik.

 _I'm surprised Raven hasn't said anything about my collar_ , Erik thought. _She can't have seen many of them._

Charles flushed. _She hasn't seen yours yet, either._

Before Erik could tease him about that, _I Can't Help Myself_ began to play, and Raven and Angel strode out onto the dance floor.

Darwin and Christian joined them immediately. Charles clapped his hands and shouted encouragement.

Erik watched, enjoying Raven's delight in being herself, and the sight of Angel smiling more than she had in months.

Mid dance-step, Raven waved her arms, as if about to take a bow, and transformed into Angel.

Angel laughed and took off into the air, Raven-Angel following her. The ceiling was eighteen feet high, so they had room to spread their wings.

Angel and Raven-Angel reached down, took Darwin's hands, and lifted him three feet off the floor. He whooped, swinging his legs in time to the music.

Charles was clutching his stomach and laughing when Azazel materialized at the edge of the dance floor.

The Four Tops song came to an end. The two Angels landed, and one turned back into Raven.

Azazel stared at Raven, a stunned look on his face.

"Crap," Charles said softly. _I wish I hadn't heard that._

Raven turned to Charles – detecting concern from him, Erik assumed – mouthed _What_ , then immediately turned and looked at Azazel.

 _Erik. I promised Raven I'd never read her mind. It's really hard to live up to that right now._

 _Then come with me, Charles._ Erik led him outside to the club's outdoor patio, which was at the rear of the building.

It would not have met the suburban definition of a patio. It was a cracked concrete pad with vinyl lounge chairs, a few potted plants, Christmas tree lights strung overhead, a cinderblock fire pit, and a portable barbecue grill.

Thanks to Banshee, however, there were never any pigeons. Surrounded by windowless warehouse walls, the patio was also private.

Riptide was tending the barbecue grill, fanning the coals and producing showers of sparks. Emma, dressed in a white bikini, lay on a lounge chair a safe distance away.

Erik and Charles fished Cokes out of a cooler, and stretched out on chairs. Erik pulled his chair next to Charles's, and turned his face up to the sky. It was sunny; the fog had not yet blown in.

They ate barbecued chicken, potato salad, and grilled corn on the cob. The Temptations floated through the club's door onto the patio. But no matter how hard Erik tried to relax, he could not block his awareness that four o'clock was approaching fast.

There had to be a way to buy more time. Darwin had driven from New York. Perhaps Charles and Raven could return with him.

 _I considered that already_ , Charles sent. _But Darwin is thinking about staying in San Francisco. I don't want to prevent him from making that choice._

 _There's another option_ , Erik thought. _Azazel._

Charles looked intrigued. _He can teleport passengers?_

 _And your luggage._ Erik smiled. _You could stay until morning._

 _You think he'd do that for me and Raven?_

Erik decided not to mention the obvious: that Raven and Azazel had probably teleported out of the club at least once already.

 _It won't hurt to ask, Charles._

Charles touched his forehead. _Azazel?_ The power of the summons made Erik blink.

Azazel materialized directly before Charles. Raven ran out onto the patio a moment later.

"I will take you and Raven home in the morning," Azazel said to Charles. "If you wish."

"Oh," Charles said. "You knew what I was going to ask?"

"I guessed," Azazel said. "Your sister has already asked me."

"How does teleportation work, Azazel?" Charles stood up. "I mean, how long does it take, and–"

Azazel took Charles's hand. They vanished, reappearing a few seconds later.

"Times Square," Charles announced. "Thank you, Azazel."

Azazel took Raven's hand, and they were gone.

Charles did not sit back down, but turned to Erik. "Can I borrow a coat? This town is freezing."

Although it was 72 degrees, a heat wave by San Francisco standards, Erik walked with Charles to the studio.

As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, Erik pushed Charles up against the wall and put a hand down the front of Charles's slacks. As Erik expected, Charles was hard.

Seconds later, Erik had Charles's slacks unzipped and down around his knees. Erik licked his hand and began jacking Charles off.

"Does teleportation always make you– Fuck!" Charles twisted against the wall, digging his fingers into Erik's shoulders.

 _It always does to me, Charles._

Charles came almost immediately. Although Erik knew his hand on Charles's cock brought fast results, Erik was unprepared, and Charles's come went everywhere. Erik succeeded in keeping it off Charles's clothes, but Charles's belly and Erik's jeans did not escape.

After wiping himself down with a towel, Charles lay on the bed. Erik took Charles's shoes off for him, then his own, and lay next to Charles. Charles pushed against Erik, closed his eyes, and dozed.

Erik needed to change into another pair of jeans, but he didn't want to move yet. Charles's weight and warmth was soothing.

After Charles's revelation about Oxford, Erik had tried to keep physically distant. He had failed. Charles had touched him, hugged him, taken his hand, all afternoon long.

Now that Erik knew Charles was spending another night, he resolved to enjoy the physical closeness. It was an urgently needed respite from the world.

 _That's how I see it, too._ Charles's voice sounded sleepy in Erik's head.

Erik stroked Charles's hair.

 _I love the way you touch me, Erik._

Erik gripped Charles in his arms. The peaceful feeling in him grew. Peaked.

And abruptly collapsed.

Having Charles in his arms was suddenly a cruel taunt. In less than twenty-four hours, Erik would be holding nothing.

Beware the instant connection.

Erik finally understood what Angel meant. When the connection was severed, all that remained was an aching void.

"Erik, stop that, come here." Charles lay on top of Erik and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing hard.

The weight of Charles, the pressure of Charles's arms, had an effect. Erik's chest lost its tightness. The knot in his stomach relaxed.

 _Nice trick, Charles._

Charles rolled off him.

"A hug is not a trick, Erik." Charles looked somber, the way he had looked when Erik reacted to learning of Raven.

 _Anything can be a trick, Charles. You know so much. Far more than you should have to, at your age. But you don't know everything._

Charles opened his mouth, no doubt to deny his youth, or that his telepathy was a burden, or both.

Erik touched Charles's face to stop the denial. _Not knowing everything is not a bad thing, Charles._

The final layer of Erik's static shield thrummed below his skin. If he removed it, Erik would change everything between them in an instant. But no one should have to go through what Erik had gone through, even secondhand.

 _Remove what?_ Charles looked apprehensive, but, since he was Charles, he also looked extremely curious. _Erik? Show me._

Erik shook his head.

 _Erik, unless you think nothing of me, you will show me. Now._

Erik was reminded that fighting with a telepath was hell. Charles knew exactly which button to push. But Erik peeled the static back, and let Charles see.

The full horror of the camps. His mother's death. Shaw. The Nazis Erik had hunted down and executed. The mutants Erik had failed to protect in the 1960s. All dead.

Charles's eyes filled with tears. One ran down his face, splashed on Erik.

 _I'm sorry I hid it from you, Charles. But that's how it is._

 _Oh, Erik. You don't even know what you're hiding._ Charles reached into Erik's mind, brought something forward. _Look at this._

Erik flinched. _Keep it away._

 _No._ Charles was unyielding. _You must look at it, because it's killing you._

It gradually revealed itself like a rotting sea creature left behind when the tide rolled out: Erik's belief that anyone who truly came to know him would recoil, and reject him.

Charles seized the newest loathsome tendril – _after Charles leaves, I'll never see him again, because I never see anyone again_ – and froze, horrified. _Erik, no! I must see you again. Say you'll see me again._

But Erik was immobilized. The leviathan of pain was sucking everything down with it, including him. He could see the desperate patches he'd placed over it through the years: his distrust, his restlessness, his disdain for humans, the violence he'd meted out.

Charles made a wordless command in Erik's head, and dark water swirled over Erik's pain, making it disappear.

It wasn't gone permanently, but, at long last, it took up less room.

In the space left behind, Erik perceived something new.

When Charles had first arrived, before Erik had removed any of his static shield, he couldn't hear Charles's telepathic thoughts.

Erik discovered the last layer of static had prevented other communication from Charles from reaching him as well. Erik had been getting only half the story.

The words Charles had said earlier – _I've never met anyone so powerful before_ – had been wrapped in emotion Erik hadn't detected.

Emotion Charles was sending forth still. _Now that I've met you, I'm not alone, Erik. We're not alone._

Charles kissed him eagerly. _Erik! Yes! We're not alone._

Erik couldn't believe it. Charles had seen into the core of him, and was still in his arms.

 _No, Erik! That's not you. This is._

Charles surrounded them with the force he'd sensed in Emma's message, the powerful call and response, like a thousand steel bells ringing in unison, and Erik finally understood. He was as intoxicating to Charles as Charles was to him. Feeling Charles in his arms, Charles feeling exactly what Erik felt, Erik knew it was not a trick.

The connection intensified into a fierce loving light. It spread through Erik, abolishing darkness. They lay in an embrace for perhaps ten minutes. Perhaps half an hour.

"Charles?" Erik said.

 _What is it, love?_

"I heard your sister is dating a teleporter."

Charles looked uncomprehending for a few seconds, then laughed until tears were in his eyes.

 _So you plan to hitch a ride with Azazel to Oxford?_

 _Frequently, Charles._

Charles kissed him, and it was going to turn into something more serious. Erik held them apart.

"Let's go see if Raven is back from… wherever she and Azazel went. I know you want to, Charles. And we could both use more food."

"Food." Charles sighed. "Why have I been so hungry since I met you?"

Erik smiled. _Sex, Charles. It burns calories._

They found the patio deserted, but the coals were still hot. Erik slapped burgers on the grill, cooking them until the medium rare stage, then they wolfed the meat down.

It was getting dark, so Erik turned on the Christmas tree lights. They sat in lounge chairs and held hands.

They were gradually joined on the patio by Banshee, Angel, Riptide, Emma, and Christian. Riptide built a substantial fire in the fire pit. There was no sign of Azazel and Raven. Erik watched the fire, occasionally squeezing Charles's hand.

With Charles's hand in his, surrounded by his friends, Erik experienced a rare moment of peace.

 _How often will you come see me?_ Charles asked.

 _Not often enough to interfere with your studies, Charles. What you're doing is important. We need to understand ourselves better._

 _At least I know you'll always be in the mood when you arrive._ Charles smiled, thinking about the aftermath of his journey to Times Square. Then he frowned.

Erik knew exactly what Charles was thinking.

"Teleportation doesn't affect women the same way, Charles," Erik said.

"You're lying, aren't you?"

Erik laughed. "Sorry. I am."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and watched the fire.

"Erik," Emma said. "You're not smoking."

Charles looked apologetic. _Oh, hell. I forgot, Erik. I suppressed your desire for nicotine last night. Your constant craving was inconvenient._

 _You mean cutting into the sex?_

 _Well, yes._

"I quit smoking," Erik announced.

"Really," Emma said.

 _Any other bad habits I've given up, Charles?_

 _Perhaps. Shall we find out?_

They said goodnight to everyone, and returned to the studio.

* * *

Erik sat on the bed and undressed down to his jeans. Charles was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

With his static shield entirely removed, Erik could overhear the bright chatter of Charles's mind, like the song of birds in the twilight.

Charles thought of Raven, of Oxford. Charles wondered whether he had any clean socks left for the journey back to New York tomorrow, then wondered if teleportation qualified as a journey.

And Charles thought of Erik.

Charles remembered the first time he'd set foot in the bathroom, when Erik had joined him in response to Charles's question about the hose, and Erik had fantasized with incendiary detail about ripping Charles's clothes off and putting him in the shower and using the hose on him, and Charles had thought _Do it, do it_ , but Erik couldn't hear him because of the damned shield–

Erik opened the door to the bathroom.

Charles put down his toothbrush.

 _I heard you this time, Charles._

When Erik reached for him, Charles moved easily into Erik's arms, tucking his head below Erik's chin, his breath hot on Erik's neck.

His compliant body made something clench inside Erik's chest. It also made Erik instantly hard.

Erik gripped the hair on the back of Charles's head, tilted his head back, and kissed him. He rubbed his erection against Charles's thigh, denim dragging across his cock and making him harder.

Charles groaned into Erik's mouth.

"I want–" Erik began, but that was wrong.

He had to frame his request correctly.

Erik started again. _Master._

 _What is it, my dear?_

 _Requesting permission to use my boy._

 _How hard?_

Erik took Charles's head in his hands, smoothed Charles's hair. _As hard as my boy can take it._

Charles's eyes were hot. _You want to show off to me?_

Erik smiled. _I believe you're getting to know me, Charles._

Charles arched against him. _Then yes, please._

The collar flew off Erik's neck as Erik stripped Charles out of his clothes, the cardigan and button-down shirt consigned to the floor.

Using his power, Erik turned on the taps. Steaming water gushed out of the showerhead. Erik opened the glass door to the shower stall and told Charles to get in.

He pushed his jeans down, stepped out of them, and joined Charles in the stall, where he divided the showerhead in two, so they were both under the spray.

Facing Charles, Erik picked up the soap, worked up a lather, and spread suds on Charles's chest and belly. When Erik reached around Charles to wash his back, Charles took in a breath, staring at Erik's arms.

Erik returned the soap to the shelf, and experimented. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of Charles, caging Charles in with his arms.

His gaze fixed on Erik's chest, Charles leaned against the tiled wall, his back sliding down it a few inches, then up, over and over. Charles seemed unaware he was doing it.

Erik would have to show him.

Summoning metal from the next room, Erik created a large, polished disc, and attached it to the glass shower door, creating an impromptu mirror.

 _See how good you look with me, boy._

Charles saw the reflection of Erik surrounding him. His chest rose and fell, his breath coming faster.

Erik looked into the mirror, enjoying the contrast between his body and Charles's. He set Charles's pale slimness off perfectly.

When Charles's gaze darted all over Erik's body, finally stopping on Erik's left hand, Erik realized he had summoned the hose. It was in his hand, and water jetted out of it.

Using his power, Erik moved the hose to aim the jet at Charles's lower back, then slowly lowered the hose.

Since Erik could manipulate the hose and nozzle to make the water oscillate, it was as soft as a tongue and more powerful than a vibrator. From Charles's reaction, Erik knew Charles had only used the hose in the conventional way, to clean himself out, and that the sensation was a surprise to Charles.

When the stream reached Charles's ass, Charles's knees bent, his legs shaking.

Erik's chest clenched again, harder.

"Hold on to me," Erik said.

Charles clung to him. Erik increased the force of the flow.

Erik leaned closer, until Charles's cock barely grazed his thigh. Charles moaned, and dug his hands into Erik's shoulders. Erik squeezed Charles's nipples, hard. Charles moaned again, but this time he stared into Erik's eyes.

Erik recognized the look.

It signified a state Erik sometimes reached when he was completely caught up in a D/s scene, and yet at the same time existed outside of it, aware of how beautiful it was. Transcendence.

Charles had just reached it for the first time. And Erik would get to watch.

Erik took Charles's hand and brought it to his cock, wrapped Charles's hand around him.

"Is this what you want?" Erik increased the force of the water, to make it difficult for Charles to answer.

"Please," Charles said. "Please, Erik."

"Let go," Erik said.

Still staring into Erik's eyes, Charles let go of Erik's cock.

Erik grabbed Charles's ass, spread his cheeks, and turned up the jet.

Charles's hands shook on Erik's shoulders.

"It's all right," Erik said, his voice surprising him with its gentleness. "Be a good boy, and I'll fuck you."

Erik shut the water off. He opened the shower stall door, picked Charles up, and carried him out of the bathroom.

They were dripping wet, but Erik was in too much of a hurry for a towel. Or a bed.

He set Charles on his feet. Metal flew into his hands as he rapidly formed shackles around Charles's ankles and wrists.

Using his power, Erik forced the shackles to the floor, forcing Charles down with them, until Charles was down on all fours, his weight on his forearms and knees.

Charles writhed in his bonds, his ass in the air.

Now in a desperate hurry, Erik added rings to the shackles, and drove spikes through them. The spikes shrieked as they passed through the carpet and pierced the cement subfloor below.

Then, finally, Erik was aware of the silence.

 _Why aren't you talking to me with your mind, Charles?_

Charles was breathing hard, as if he'd been running.

 _You chained yourself for me, Erik, I thought if I turned off my telepathy it would be–_

 _Stop it. Never turn it off, Charles._

Erik got on his hands and knees, moving on top of Charles, his arms and legs hemming Charles in. Charles fit under him perfectly.

Charles couldn't move in any direction. There was no give to the shackles, and Erik's body surrounded him. But Charles's mind was free again. _Please, Erik, fuck me._

A thought crossed Charles's mind – _shackles, spikes, has Erik done this before_. Erik sent _No_. And then, before he could prevent it, his original fantasy, years old, scrolled past: no shackles, instead steel spikes straight through flesh into the floor.

Erik regretted it instantly. _That was fucking dark._

Charles answered. _Yes you can be fucking dark, but you're strong, our protector, my equal, you're mine._

With _mine_ resounding through him, Erik bit down on the back of Charles's neck.

He didn't skimp on the Vaseline, thinking _I'll take care of you_ and _First I was first_ as he prepped Charles, who tried to buck up against him.

Erik put his hands over the shackles around Charles's wrists and held them, bracing himself.

When Charles yielded to his cock, Erik wanted to promise something, anything. His hips slapped harshly against Charles's ass, his thrusts close to brutal.

Erik reached under Charles, grasped his cock, just a few strokes. He gasped "Good boy" when Charles's come shot into his hand.

Erik knew he was overwhelming Charles, and that Charles was nearing the end of his endurance. But Erik's thrusts would get even harder when he climaxed. He had to warn Charles he was sorry, but he wasn't going to stop.

 _Be a good boy, Charles, hold on a while longer._

Every breath Charles took was a shrill cry. Erik's arms and legs were shaking.

To steady himself, Erik gripped the shackles around Charles's wrists again. The metal moved out of the way long enough for Erik to clasp Charles's wrists, then the metal closed over both of them.

 _Keep taking it for me, love, I'm going to come._

A roar formed in Erik's chest, trying to force its way out. Sweat burned his eyes. He blinked the sweat away, and saw Charles beneath him.

Charles's mind free of any thought but of him.

The roar made it out first, then Erik climaxed. The release was total, everything emptying out of him, Charles taking it all.

Erik's mind shut down. When he came to, he moved as quickly as he could to remove the shackles, then rolled Charles onto his back and rubbed his wrists and ankles.

 _I'm fine._ Charles smiled at him. _Not sure if I can move yet, though._

Erik brought them to the shower. It was strangely easy, their feet skimming the floor.

He made the showerhead enormous, so they were in a gentle rain. They sat on the floor of the shower, Charles in Erik's lap. Erik massaged Charles's wrists and ankles.

 _I wasn't sure you were going to go there, Erik._ Charles sent an image of himself in the shackles. _I knew it was in your mind._

 _I wasn't sure I was going to go there, either, Charles. I never have before. But I hadn't met you yet._

Charles smiled. _Then I'm inspiring?_

"Entirely," Erik said.

They kissed, warm mist falling around them.

After the shower, Erik thoroughly dried Charles with a towel, and put him to bed.

When Erik got into bed, Charles took his hand.

"Erik, I accept your proposal."

"What proposal?"

 _You know the one, Erik. The two of us joining forces to lead mutantkind to freedom._

 _When was I thinking of that?_

 _All the time, my dear._

Erik knew Charles was right. Erik had run from the anguish of the past long enough.

 _But I'm not ready yet._ Charles kissed him. _I've learned I have so much to learn._

* * *

Erik woke at seven Monday morning. It was far too early, but he and Charles had something to do before Azazel took Charles and Raven back to New York.

After a quick cup of coffee, he and Charles dressed and went outside to the patio. Erik straddled a lounge chair. Charles straddled the same chair, facing Erik.

Charles winced as he sat down. He noticed Erik noticing the wince. _Don't tell me you're sorry, Erik, because I know you aren't._

Erik grinned. They kissed, then Charles asked, "How will this work?"

"I don't know how I did it with Emma," Erik said. "I knew what I wanted to happen, but I don't know how I made it happen."

 _I can show you what you're doing this time._ Charles's excitement intensified.

Erik concentrated.

With Charles's help, Erik saw his instructions form, the symbols swirling upward.

For the first time, Erik saw their destination: the magnetosphere, created by the magnetic power of the earth itself. It shielded the earth from deadly cosmic rays, protected the fragile atmosphere from the solar wind, and made possible all life.

Spurred on by Charles's wonder, Erik bent the magnetosphere to his will, instructing it to speed Charles's message.

Charles unleashed his own power. _Come to Avalon in San Francisco, mutants. We'll protect you. Join us._ It was a thunderous blast compared to Emma's delicate song, Charles riding Erik's wave, crossing the continent, crossing seas–

 _Charles, stop, you're hurting yourself._ Erik grabbed Charles and shook him.

Charles was pale and sweating, but he smiled. "I think it worked, Erik. Look."

Erik looked up to see Banshee stumble out onto the patio. Banshee was followed by Darwin, Angel, Riptide, and Emma.

"That was _awesome_ ," Banshee said.

Azazel and Raven materialized a few seconds later.

Charles covered his eyes. "Raven! Put some clothes on!"

* * *

Charles and Raven assembled with their luggage in the middle of the dance floor.

Raven was wearing her blond girl mode, a dress, and heels. Charles had on his plane trip outfit, which was somewhat the worse for wear.

Charles looked cranky. _I know for a fact Raven did not sleep at all last night, Erik. She and Azazel were in the Caribbean. The Caribbean!_

Erik smiled. _Good for her._ Then a shock went through him. _They heard you in the Caribbean? Fuck, Charles!_

Charles grinned. _They didn't hear just_ me _, Erik._

Azazel stood between Raven and Charles, preparing to take their hands.

"Before you go, I need to say something," Darwin said. "I'm going to stay." He looked at Emma, Riptide, Banshee, Azazel, Angel, Christian, and Erik. "If that's all right."

Banshee cheered. Angel ran to Darwin and hugged him.

Darwin was quickly enveloped in one congratulatory hug after another. Erik joined in, even though he felt self-conscious.

Before Charles, Azazel, and Raven could assemble again, Angel hugged Raven goodbye.

"Click your heels three times," Angel said when she let go of Raven. "And come back."

Another round of hugging started, this time farewell hugs for Raven and Charles.

It meant Erik would have to hug Charles goodbye in front of everyone, and he could not see any way of doing it and keeping control of his emotions.

Raven held her arms out to him, so Erik hugged her first. It would be easier. Or so he thought. When he looked into her eyes, she was crying. Erik saw everyone had damp eyes, including himself – everyone except Azazel, who probably lacked the necessary tear ducts.

Erik felt a surge of hope. Their tiny band had grown by three. It was cause for celebration, no matter how much time passed until they were all together again.

When Erik put his arms around Charles, Charles made a rough sound, close to a sob, so Erik squeezed him fiercely.

Erik finally let go, and took a step back.

Azazel stood between Charles and Raven. As Azazel took their hands, a thought from Charles's touched Erik's mind.

Erik opened up to receive it just as Charles, Raven, and Azazel vanished.

Erik held it in his mind to examine it, expecting words, or an image, but instead it was a single symbol. A symbol without shape, or color, or sound, but dense with meaning.

Charles had deciphered one of the symbols on his own.

It was the symbol Erik knew best. It meant _Erik_.

Not merely his name, it was the whole of Erik, as familiar as his own face, and at the same time transformed, forged anew by the way Charles saw him. As warm as iron and as constant as silver.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Betas are awesome! [Mrkinch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/pseuds/mrkinch) helped me tremendously with meta chats. [Giandujakiss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/giandujakiss/pseuds/giandujakiss) prodded me toward a much-needed correction of characterization and pacing. Any remaining errors are mine.
> 
> BDSM story disclaimer: this is an idealized – and therefore unrealistic – depiction of BDSM.
> 
> Story originated in comments in helens78's Dreamwidth account, where I bunnied myself with _Because surely there needs to be a fic in which Erik is a dungeon master and Charles is a newbie at a BDSM club._
> 
> Things I borrowed from Marvel canon: Erik and Emma telepathically inviting mutants to San Francisco; Emma's gay brother Christian; Emma mind-wiping Shaw; Erik's ability to boost or hinder telepathic communication; Avalon for the club's name.
> 
> I blame the metal porn on "I feel their guns moving in the water."
> 
> Things I borrowed from RL: Fassbender being destroyed by Gonzalez's good looks; Fassbender's smoking; McAvoy's mutant flirting powers.
> 
> Other than PWPs, additional stories in this universe are unlikely [edit: but inevitable!], because the fallout of Charles Xavier not being around in the early 1960s to found his school is too tragic to deal with. But anyone tempted to extend the story will have my gratitude. Podfic, art, remixes: yes!


End file.
